


The List

by forgotten_traveler



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Brain Injury, F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Memory Loss, Mental Health Issues, Romance, Semi-love triangle, Sexual Content, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 14:01:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29297061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forgotten_traveler/pseuds/forgotten_traveler
Summary: As Hermione stared unblinkingly at the ceiling of St. Mungo’s, she listed all the things she was absolutely certain of:1. She was in the hospital.2. She had been in an accident.3. She thought it was 1999 and the healer thought it was 2006.4. Malfoy claimed to be her husband.5. Ron was nowhere to be found.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 45
Kudos: 157





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Wait and Hope](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22818646) by [mightbewriting](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mightbewriting/pseuds/mightbewriting). 



Hermione was a morning person, she always had been. Most days she could be found sitting by her window with a steaming cup of tea warming her fingers as the sun rose in the distance.

The morning of her accident was no different.

Her internal alarm clock went off as it usually did. She tried to stretch without waking up her husband who was dead to the world. His soft snores echoed throughout the room.

Draco Malfoy was not a morning person. He often woke cranky and belligerent. Every morning Hermione tried her best to leave their bed without Draco waking because she rarely, if ever, wanted to deal with his constant complaints in the morning.

Since he insisted on sleeping with his arm slung around her waist and his hair buried in her curls, Hermione didn’t feel particularly guilty when she inevitably woke him up.

She tried to slip the blankets off of her and roll out from underneath his arm. As soon as she started moving, the arm around her tightened and Draco pulled her closer to him.

“Not yet,” he groaned.

She shook her head at him, as she did most mornings, and pressed a light kiss on the tip of his nose. “Draco,” she chided, “You know I have to go to work, they’re giving me that new assignment today. And you have that meeting with Theo today.”

“Fuck Theo, and fuck the ministry too. I don’t care about any of those bastards.” His right hand curled into her hair as his face nuzzled next to Hermione’s ears. His lips began pressing feather light kisses up and down her neck.

He gave another groan as she continued to pull away from him.

“Don’t leave yet. The bed is so warm. Sleep is so nice.” He pulled her close enough so that she was flush against him.

“Draco we have work.”

“I can think of something better for us to do than work,” his voice virtually purred in her ear. The sensation of his breath tickled her ear and raised bumps all over her arm.

“Draco I have to get re-” her voice trailed off as his fingers ghosted upwards from her waist towards her chest.

“You were saying,” he smirked.

“I think I can wait a few minutes to get ready, it is early after all.” Hermione gasped as her fingers pulled his hair upwards so his mouth would reach hers.

“So generous,” he whispered moments before their lips connected.

* * *

Afterward, Draco was lying on their bed, propped up on his elbow watching Hermione debate which top she should wear to work. “Is this new project what we’ve been hoping for?”

She turned to him, her smile as wide as could be. “I think so. I hope at least.”

Hermione was the director of the “Department for Muggle and Magical Cooperation and Coordination,” a fancy name for what was a one-woman department. She had ruffled feathers and even resorted to 'off the record' blackmail to get the permission necessary to start her department.

Her days consisted of research and brainstorming sessions. As she tried to determine the best ways to combine Magic and Muggle technology for the betterment of both societies.

Hermione knew from a young age that the two societies could benefit from a symbiotic relationship. Muggles created thousands of ingenious ways to compensate for their lack of magic. Some inventions, such as the internet, would bring Wizarding society forward by hundreds of years. Some various diseases and ailments had been completely eradicated from the Wizarding world due to potions and charms. She often found ways to introduce magical medicine into muggle society while still upholding the International Statute of Secrecy.

Her days consisted of debates on the risks and rewards of certain spells and technology entering each society. She worked closely with Arthur Weasley, the chairman of the department of Muggle Artefacts and Preservation. He was one of the few Weasley’s she still spoke to.

Hermione had her eyes set on a project that was continually deemed too dangerous by her superiors. She had three proposals shut down already, but she was hopeful that this last one finally had enough safety procedures in place to prevent a denial.

“So you’ll be headed to the Department of Mysteries?” he asked. He had been listening to her talk about the potential of this project for years. He was almost as familiar with it as she was.

“I hope so! If they let me start today I’ll want to jump right in. I hope the Brain room has what we need. I really don’t want to go to the Time Room again. It made me feel all queasy last time.”

Draco had finally decided to get out of bed. He was stretching as he walked to the closet to get dressed as well.

“I hope you have to go to the Love Chamber again,” he said as his fingers glided down her spine and rested on her hips.

Hermione gasped, “You said you wouldn’t joke about that!”

“Baby, I want nothing more than a repeat of what happened a few months ago. I’ll keep my cell phone on me just in case. Maybe I’ll even take the afternoon off, just so I can be on call for my temptress of a wife,” He squeezed the hands that were resting on her hip.

Few things embarrassed Hermione more than the first, and thankfully only, time she went into the Love Chamber. Hermione was gathering materials for a prototype antidepressant she was working on when she accidentally knocked over a large vial of a potion. Hermione, being a dutiful Ministry employee, immediately began cleaning up her mistake. When she finished cleaning her mess, she realized that she had been inhaling the remnants of a lust potion for the better part of an hour.

The fumes alone had forced her to take the entire afternoon off. Her poor husband received a very interesting message from her, something along the lines of “if you want to stay married to me you’ll be home in 5 minutes ready to shag.” Draco was there in 2 minutes and 27 seconds.

“There will not be a repeat of that again.” She said, turning around to look at him sternly. “Besides my project is involved with memory, there should be no rogue love potion accidents today.”

“A shame really. That makes my day noticeably less exciting.” He frowned, then a cat’s smile. “Maybe you should just drink the potion this time. In the interest of science of course. It could be an interesting experiment.”

“In the interest of science, I’m going to decline that offer,” Hermione said, patting him on the cheek as she left their room.

She walked into their kitchen and began listing the things she needed to bring to work. Wand? Check. Phone? Check. Lunch? Check. She was looking around to figure out what she had forgotten when Draco came behind her and draped her cloak around her shoulders. Ahhh that was it.

“When do you think you’ll be home?” he asked as she headed towards the floo.

“I'm going to try to stay no later than 7, but you know how I get.”

Hermione easily became wrapped up in her projects, unable to stop working on them long enough to come home at a reasonable time.

He rolled his eyes, “I’ll grab dinner for us then. If you’re still at the Ministry past 8 I’ll drop it off for you.”

“Have I told you lately how much I love you?”

“Not nearly as much as I deserve,” he said leaning down to kiss her. A few seconds later he directed her to the floo, “Now go save the world and all that rubbish.”

With a flash of green, she was gone.

* * *

As Hermione walked to her office, she focused on each step she was taking in an attempt to stop her mind from running wild with anticipation. She tried to keep from getting too excited in case her proposal had been denied.

At the sound of her office door opening, she smiled as Arthur Weasley walked through the door. “Good Morning Hermione.”

“Morning Arthur. Will it just be us this morning?”

“You’re stuck with me today. Minister Shacklebolt sends his regrets that he can’t tell you himself, but, in his words 'that witch already knows what we’re giving her,'” he said laughing.

“Oh, Arthur is it true?” Hermione needed to hear the confirmation before she believed it.

“Project Amygdala has officially been funded by the Ministry and the National Health Service.” He had a wide grin on his face.

Hermione wasn’t the only one that saw the potential of this project. Arthur had been just as crushed when her proposal was denied last year.

Two years ago she and Arthur were watching a Muggle television program for research. A news channel ran a story on degenerative memory loss. They were both captivated. By the end of the program, Hermione had already begun drafting up her first draft of the proposal.

“Now Hermione, they made me promise that I’d warn you, Memory is tricky. There are risks involved in research of-“

“Yeah yeah,” Hermione said dismissively, she’d heard it all before. It was the main reason the project took so long to be approved. “I’ll be safe. Would you like to join me in the Department of Mysteries today?”

His smile returned, “I thought you’d never ask.”

Arthur Weasley would never know how thankful Hermione was for him. Noticing that Hermione was virtually an orphan after the war, he made it clear to her that he was always available for her whenever she needed someone to talk to.

He had never faulted her for her decision to break up with Ron, instead, he often listened to her with sympathy when she talked about her past relationship. Arthur, in many ways, had taken up the mantle left vacant by her parent’s memory loss.

Hermione and Arthur chatted easily as they walked to the elevator together. They discussed ideas for the first stage of research.

Hermione paused before she asked in a smaller voice, “How’s Ron?”

“About the same. I’m trying to convince him to move out of the Potter’s place. I don’t think he’ll ever get better when he’s not reminded of” Arthur gave a vague gesture trying to come up with the word, “everything.”

“Do you think he’ll listen to you?” Hermione said frowning like she did every time she thought of him.

“I don’t think so. He thinks that they need him to stay there. And he just wants to feel needed,” Arthur said, shaking his head. Ron had been living with Harry and Ginny for a few years now.

“And Harry still says it’s fine?”

“They don’t know what to do. I think Harry likes being able to make sure he’s okay.”

While Hermione had initially been more distraught over their break up, Ron’s grief was delayed. When it came, it hit him like a tidal wave. With everything he was going through after the war, it became too much. He always seemed to be stuck in an endless loop of depression.

“Ginny’s getting tired of it,” Hermione said. It wasn’t a question. Ginny often complained about having to see Ron every single day when she came over for tea.

“It’s an impossible situation. None of us know how to help,” he said, his shoulders sagging a bit.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Hermione said, a genuine regret pooling in her chest. She had no sour feelings towards him anymore, even though the feeling was decidedly not mutual.

Arthur shrugged, “It’s not your fault. You deserve to enjoy your happiness. I’m sorry so few of my family can see that.” The conversation morphed into the direction it always ended up in. Arthur comforting Hermione.

Most of the Weasleys didn’t speak to her. Molly and Harry considered her responsible for Ron’s downward spiral. Bill, Charlie, and Percy didn’t know her well enough to disagree with their mother. George was too busy focusing on fixing himself to worry about Ron. Ginny and Arthur were the only members of the Wesley family that spoke to her regularly.

“Thank you, Arthur. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help,” she said as they arrived at the Department of Mysteries.

He nodded.

“I’ll go sign us in.” He motioned to the front desk.

Her heart ached as her mind swirled with thoughts of Ron. The dissolution of her relationship with him didn’t bother her, she was thankful it had ended when it did. But she often longed for his easy smile, the long nose, and the freckles that painted his face. She missed when her friendships with those she grew up with were simple.

Arthur returned after he signed them in, motioning for her to lead the way to the Brain Room. Hermione’s thoughts were on terminated friendships as she reached forward and walked inside.

She immediately pulled out the list of potion ingredients that she wanted to start with. She wanted all of her ingredients to be brain-soaked to increase their efficacy. She just needed Sage, Rose Thorns, and Jobberknoll Feathers.

She was hoping to make a preliminary potion first and once when she had a nice foundation, she’d enlist Draco and Theo’s help.

Draco and Theo’s potion company was often contracted out by the Ministry to help with their inventions. Theo was brilliant with his charm work, and combined with Draco’s potion’s mastery made them an unstoppable duo. Where Hermione was concerned, they got great results.

Hermione reached down to grab the Sage when she heard a voice slither into her ear.

 _Hermione, use extra Jobberknoll feathers._ it said. It was an unsettling sensation to hear a voice without it coming through her ears. The sound invaded her skull and advanced straight to her brain.

“Thank you. That’s good advice.” She smiled at the brain that was floating in front of her. The brain bounced up and down, its version of a nod, then traveled away from her in a smooth glide.

The Brain Room used to creep Hermione out. Since it was the area of the Department of Mysteries that she went to most often, she quickly got over it.

It was Arthur’s complete bafflement at her squeamishness that convinced her of the amazing potential of the room. He loved it and often said it was some of the best conversations he could get. She had to agree. She thought she learned more about history in this room than she ever had from a textbook.

As she finished grabbing the Rose Thorns, she headed to the section with the Jobberknoll Feathers. She looked up and saw Arthur speaking animatedly with a brain in front of her. She smiled as she overheard his one-sided conversation.

“Fascinating. Tell me more.” Arthur was on the balls of his feet while talking to the brain.

“Is that Clover?” Hermione asked over her shoulder as she was gathering her materials.

He looked over at her with a nod. “It’s telling me about the prophecy it gave a young boy before he went off to battle.”

He paused for a moment as he looked back at the brain, “It wants me to tell you that the boy’s name was Alexios.” Arthur said.

“Fascinating!” Hermione called out as she continued gathering her materials.

There were many different spirits that were in the brain room. Some of them only had enough energy to have conversations every once in a while. The other more powerful souls became almost like friends.

There was a strange sort of purity in the spirits. They longed to tell stories they had from when they were alive. And often they gave unsolicited, yet usually helpful, advice. Sometimes they would ask for certain pieces of outside news. Hermione and Arthur were always excited to fulfill those requests.

Clover, a nickname that Arthur and Hermione gave a specific brain, was one of the first spirits that she had become friends with. Hermione suspected that Clover was an Oracle of Delphi since most of its stories had to deal with ancient Greek prophecies. Clover refused to confirm or deny her suspicions.

Hermione always got excited whenever Clover decided to talk to them. She didn’t hold much stock in Divination, but it was hard to deny how intoxicating the knowledge the spirits gave off was.

Arthur’s eyes were far away as he continued his conversation with Clover. All of his energy seemed to be focused on the sounds coming into his brain.

When Hermione finished collecting her supplies she walked over to Clover, hoping she could convince it to speak with her. The air grew colder with each step she took towards Clover. Eventually, everything around her became still.

Hermione took a deep breath as she reached out to touch the brain.

All was silent for a moment before she heard the low guttural voice in her head.

_Hermione. It is so nice to see you, dear._

Hermione gazed at this brain with a hungry expression. She wasn't sure how such a scratchy voice was able to sound like velvet melting in her head.

_But you seem sad. Why is that?_

Hermione’s voice was toneless as she responded. The words didn’t come from her mouth, they traveled straight through her brain.

“Arthur and I were talking about my ex-boyfriend. It always makes me sad to think of him.”

She heard a hum in her mind as the brain seemed to think over what she was saying.

A few moments passed before the lights in the room went dark. Hermione couldn't feel her body anymore; she felt as though she was inside her mind.

Suddenly, a woman was standing in front of her. At least, Hermione thought it was a woman. Where her eyes were supposed to be, there was fire instead.

 _There this is better._ The woman’s mouth didn’t move as it began to float in careful circles around Hermione.

_This is my true form. I'm glad you can see me like this._

Hermione's gaze was transfixed on the blue flames in her eyes. 

_You have made many mistakes in your life dear._

Hermione nodded unable to move her mouth to speak.

_But I want to help you. You have done so much for me._

Hermione felt as if she was completely void of any life inside her, each sound the spirit made cured some deep craving she didn’t know. It kept circling her. Hermione was unable to do anything but focus on its movements.

_Would you like my help?_

The spirit was so kind. So comforting. She knew this spirit, she had countless conversations with it. Clover was wise. Wise enough to be good to Hermione.

Hermione’s head moved up and down. She couldn’t recall summoning the strength to move it.

_I understand. You regret your decision. You wish you chose differently._

“Wait-” Hermione said as she began to comprehend what the disembodied voice creaked.

_No need to worry dear. I will help you make it right._

“Clover stop-”

_Choose correctly this time._

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

_I am going to give you another chance._

“Another chance for what?”

The brain responded with a single word.

 _Ron_.

Hermione’s chest constricted as she heard what the brain said to her. She didn’t know how to respond to it. Instead, she just stood there frozen in her spot. She desperately wished Arthur would interrupt them and stop what was happening.

She wanted to stop this. She didn’t want to continue. She tried to force sounds out of her mouth to protest to beg for the spirit to stop.

_I do not require an answer. I can decide what is best for you._

Hermione was suddenly jerked back to the present. The rush from leaving her subconscious left her entire form aching.

Her hand connected to the brain suddenly burned hot red. The fire pulsed through from her fingertips through her nerves and into her brain. The infection burrowed deep in her brain, stopping somewhere at the base of her skull. Giving out a loud cry, she forced herself to let go of the brain.

With a loud crack, Hermione was suddenly catapulted 8 feet into the air.

She landed on the other side of the wall with a thud.

“Hermione! Are you okay?” Arthur exclaimed as he knelt next to her. “What happened?”

Hermione’s hand reached back to touch the wetness on the back of her head. Her fingertips came back bright red.

“Oh,” was all Hermione said looking at her blood dripping down her fingers. An inappropriate giggle threatened to escape as she remembered Arthur’s warning to be careful not 30 minutes ago. Her giggle vanished when she worried about the possibility this could cancel Project Amygdala.

She wanted to tell Arthur not to tell anyone that she got hurt, that it wasn’t the Project’s fault, it was that stupid brain’s fault. She opened her mouth to try to say something to him, but only unnatural sounds from deep in her throat came out. That was probably a problem.

She reached into her pocket to grab her cell phone. She tapped her wand on the screen and it dialed Draco’s number.

“Calling for me already? I think that must be a record.” She could hear the smirk in his voice.

Hermione responded with a series of incoherent vowels and consonants. Her mouth wouldn’t change its shape to form words, no matter how hard she tried.

“Hermione, what happened? Are you okay?” he said, suddenly on alert.

She just groaned in response.

“Hermione are you alone?” he asked desperately.

“No.”

Yes/no responses seemed easier than full sentences, still, her response came out as more of a garbled moan than speech.

“Give the phone to whoever is with you.” Draco’s voice had taken on a deadly calmness.

Hermione felt the phone lifted from her fingertips. She could just barely make out Draco’s rushed words to the man standing in front of her. She felt like she should know him. Who was that?

‘Oh’, she reminded herself, ‘it’s Arthur.’ She almost laughed again. How could she ever forget him?

“I need you to take her to St. Mungos right now. I will meet you there.” She heard a voice saying on the phone. She knew that voice, she thought she was just talking to him. She couldn’t remember his name though.

“Put me back on the phone with her.” The same voice demanded, his voice flowed like music. “Hermione, can you hear me?”

“Mmmm-hmmm.” “

Okay, Arthur is going to get an emergency…” He sounded like springtime and lavender.

She heard the sounds he was making but stopped understanding the words.

“You’re going to be okay. You're going to be okay. You’re going to be okay,” he repeated.

It was easier for her to understand when she expected what he was going to say.

The last words she heard were, “I love you”.

Then darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started writing this after I read Wait and Hope by mightbewriting. I wondered how different that story might be if Ron was still in love with Hermione, and then my mind obviously went crazy with ideas.
> 
> Seriously, though Wait and Hope is a better story than this and you should definitely read it before reading whatever it is I crank out. 
> 
> I'm super excited about this story. I've written about half of it already! I'll be posting semi-regularly.
> 
> [Follow me on Tumblr!](https://forgotten-traveler.tumblr.com/)


	2. The Hospital

The light burnt her eyes no matter how hard she squeezed her eyes shut. There was too much around her. There were footsteps all around her. A voice was close to her ear. It was saying- something.

She felt like she was grasping for something that she couldn’t make out. Each time she reached for the unknown her hands came back empty. Each failure to gleam information frustrated her.

So, she just focused on listening.

The difference between soft sounds and loud sounds was the first sense to return. Loud noise usually meant there were hands all over her. Sometimes even painful procedures.

The soft sounds were harder. They usually seemed to come from people. It was a disconcerting feeling hearing words without comprehension. It felt like she was thrust into an unknown foreign country without speaking a word of their language.

Hermione didn’t like not knowing things. So, she tried even harder. All her energy and mental resources were devoted to understanding.

Someone was upset. She thought she heard crying.

Why was someone upset?

Something must be wrong.

Eventually, words began to come back. Slowly. It began with the pleas she heard. There were prayers. To everyone. Each God that one could possibly think of. She didn’t think she was very religious. Why were there so many prayers?

Once she understood small phrases, her brain began to be able to latch onto conversations. She was hungry for any information she could get from them.

She heard so many voices. Some were male, others female.

“Still no change?”

“Nothing.”

She heard sighs. The tapping of feet. She even thought someone might be pacing in the room with the number of footsteps she could hear.

“Please wake up. Please wake up. Please wake up.”

That voice was familiar.

The noise originated from a spot near her ear. She thought she could just barely notice the sensation of breathing on her neck.

The familiar voice was heard often. But there were others.

“Let me sit with her,” came from her right side.

“You need to go home and get some rest,” a different wish was spoken at a later time.

“Go home and get some sleep. I’ll let you know if anything changes.” That voice seemed softer than the rest, a plea of some kind.

All of these desires would eventually be silenced.

“No.”

* * *

It became pretty easy to tell when the Healers were coming in. All conversations would halt. Voices would quiet. Calm footsteps would sound moments before the pain.

She tried to brace herself for it, but it was hard to prepare for the aching torture they put her through.

The unwelcome invasion of another’s magic was uncomfortable on good days. Each spell they used left her head screaming. She was left wrenching her mind away from the pain, but each additional spell forced her back to participate in her own abuse.

She wished she could lift her arms so that she could cradle her head. Protect it from what was happening.

Sometimes she heard crying during the magical interventions. There were whimpers, sobs, and moans. Again and again. She wished they would just shut up. Every sound made her head hurt even worse.

It took Hermione a long time to realize that she was the one making the noises.

Eventually, she’d feel their magic slide out of her body. Her chest was left heaving in their wake.

She knew they were officially finished with her when she heard, “There’s no change Mr. Malfoy. We will let you know if anything changes.”

The familiar voice would then resume his chant by her ear. “Please wake up.” was repeated over and over again.

His mantra began to wear thin on her nerves. She was obviously trying to wake up. No one ever wants to stay in a comatose nightmare.

When her annoyance reached its boiling point, she finally summoned the effort necessary to open her eyes. She slammed them shut again when she was reminded just how much the lights made her head throb.

A few moments later, her head had become a dull roar as she regained the courage to open her eyes again.

She couldn’t focus.

Everything felt unknown.

She saw things. She knew there were things in front of her.

But what were they?

Nothing made sense.

She tried to focus her gaze. Were those eyes staring down at her? A man?

She saw him in separate parts like he was sliced into puzzle pieces. Instead of a whole being, she saw a jaw hanging, a pair of wide eyes, and a trembling mouth.

“Can you hear me?” Desperation. Fear. Terror. It was all too much to listen to. She couldn’t look.

A cool hand grabbed her wrist. The touch radiated to the entire side of her body. It felt like she was dipped in a bucket of ice water. Pain flashed up her arms, down her legs.

She wished she had the words to beg him to let go. She wanted to plead with him not to torture her like this.

Suddenly, and without any preamble, different sets of hands were groping her whole body. Each spot a hand grazed was left trembling.

Her mouth fell open as deep guttural moans escaped from her lips. She thought she was crying.

Spells were flying all around her; into her.

“Mrs. Malfoy, can you hear me?” Hands hovered over her weaving magic into her skull.

“Mrs. Malfoy, if you can hear me, please try to stay calm. Take deep breaths. We are going to put you back under.”

None of it made sense, no matter how hard she tried to focus.

* * *

Hermione was floating. The air around her was like a gentle breeze. She didn’t notice anything, instead, she let the tides take her in and out from the shore.

* * *

Hermione didn’t know how long it took, but eventually, her eyes fluttered open. There was an overabundance of stimuli, but it didn’t overwhelm her fragile brain as it did before.

“Can you hear me?” a voice croaked.

Hermione tried to manage a nod, before she finally said, “Yes.”

It felt like her throat was closing in on itself as a scratchy rasp left her mouth. Her voice had never sounded like that before.

“Oh thank god.” He laughed as he stared down at her. Her eyes narrowed on his hands. They reached out and hovered over her body as he hesitated. Eventually, he dropped them back to his side.

Hermione finally looked at him in the eyes.

Was that?

It couldn’t be.

She must be going crazy.

“Oh thank god. I was so worried. Don’t ever do anything to me again,” He said as he leaned down and kissed her on the forehead.

He turned from her and then left with a sprint.

While he was gone, Hermione went over the encounter in her head. Her subconscious, in all its unknowing wisdom, must have decided that Malfoy kissing her at her bedside was an appropriate hallucination to give.

There was no way that her subconscious could be that creative. He must be someone else. Maybe he was her healer?

Healers don’t usually kiss their patients.

She grasped onto his voice. That voice was familiar. She knew it from somewhere. The answer was somewhere in her brain, but she just couldn’t reach it. It was just as frustrating as when she had a word being on the tip of her tongue.

A few moments later a healer walked into the room. Hermione watched as she entered. Her silver hair was collected into a tight gray bun. A gentle smile was on her face.

“Hello, my name is Healer Morgan. I specialize in magical brain injuries. Are you in any pain?” she asked softly. Her words were kind enough to feel comforting to her damaged brain.

Hermione shook her head no.

Her head was throbbing. Her stomach was turning. Her arms and legs were burning.

There were more important things that she wanted to focus on.

“I’m going to ask you some questions to see how your brain is doing. Can you say yes if you understand what I’m saying?” her voice reminded Hermione of a still lake. Calm. Serene.

“Y-” Hermione started but stopped as she was reminded of how horrible her voice sounded. Healer Morgan gave her an encouraging smile and handed her a cup of water.

“Yes,” she finally was able to say after taking a generous sip.

“Perfect. Can you tell me what your name is?”

“Hermione Granger.” The Healer nodded.

“Do you know where you are right now?”

Hermione looked around at her surroundings and the robes on the Healer. “St. Mungo’s,” Hermione responded.

“Last question for now, can you tell me what year it is?”

“It’s um 1999.” Another nod, but Hermione was able to notice her eyes widening slightly.

Considering most of her nightmares involved sympathetic expressions from healers giving bad news, she knew what that subtle look meant. It was permanently etched into her brain. It was the same look the healers gave her moments before saying the obliviation of her parents was irreversible.

“What’s wrong?” Hermione sat up in her bed.

“Nothing’s wrong. I think you may be having a little difficulty adjusting to being awake again. A little drowsiness and confusion is expected.” She was lying. Hermione could tell she was lying.

Morgan’s gentle smile was still on her face. But now it looked plastered there by sheer will.

Whereas earlier her expression soothed her fears and made her feel comfortable, this smile turned her stomach. Her peaceful lake had become choppy.

There was a pause as she began casting diagnostic spells. Each second Morgan continued to stare at the scans, was another moment of her chest aching from holding her breaths A few moments later, the healer finally spoke.

“I want to check something.” It sounded like she was mostly speaking to herself.

She was gone for a couple of minutes and Hermione focused on the mumbles of a conversation outside.

“Remember what we spoke about,” Morgan said, her voice sharp.

She looked over at Hermione’s panic-stricken expression and put her smile back on her face. Hermione focused on keeping her breathing even.

“You’re going to be fine dear. I’m going to bring someone in here. I want you to tell me who it is,” she said.

Once Hermione nodded at her, Healer Morgan motioned for him to come inside.

“Okay, come in.”

As Draco Malfoy walked in the door, she thought she may want to try to calculate exactly how big her eyes could grow before they physically popped out of their sockets. She was testing that limit with her surprise.

So, she wasn’t hallucinating earlier. She didn’t know if that was more or less comforting. She gave a subtle glance from side to side looking for her wand. Just in case.

Malfoy hovered near the doorframe. A small smile on his face that seemed to have been glued there with all of his energy. With the severity of the bags under his eyes, Hermione wondered if he had slept in years. His blond locks were sticking up at odd angles.

“Now dear,” Healer Morgan started, “Do you know who this man is?”

Hermione nodded. Her eyes flashing back and forth between the two.

“Can you tell me his name?”

“He’s Draco Malfoy, we went to school together,” Hermione said, still not taking her eyes off Malfoy. She hadn’t seen him since the end of the war, since the trials that Harry and she spoke at to keep him out of Azkaban. He looked just as exhausted as he did then.

She became transfixed by his hands. Both fists were clenched as a slight tremor ran through his body.

“Dear, is there anything else you can tell me about him? I want you to think very hard. Tell me who he is,” she prompted. Hermione’s gaze jumped from his trembling hand to his face. His plastered smile had disappeared. His eyes were intense as he watched her, but his face otherwise expressionless.

“Well, I mean he was a death eater.”

His collected expression dropped for a moment, a second. It was long enough for Hermione to see the horror in his eyes before he smothered it.

“That is technically correct, but dear-” the healer shared a glance with Malfoy, “he’s also your husband.” Hermione could sense the considerable effort Morgan was going through to try to keep her calm, but her spluttering had already begun.

“What- I mean- absolutely not. This must be some kind of sick joke. I would never- I’m with- Where did you even come up with-”

Every sentence she failed to finish caused a flash of pain to flash across Malfoy’s face. When she was finished speaking his face was vacant. His eyes stared at nothing with only a blank look on his face. Each of his breaths seemed to take an enormous amount of effort.

“Mr. Malfoy can you please give your wife some space and exit the room. I would like to explain everything to her,” Morgan asked. When he stood still as a statue, she snapped at him to leave.

He was shaken from his nightmare and stalked out of the room.

“Mrs. Malfoy-”

“Don’t call me that!” Hermione exclaimed. She tried to search the healer’s face for some kind of humor.

“Hermione, you’ve just woken up from a magically induced coma. You were in an accident, a combination of physical trauma and an unfamiliar magical signature required us to put you under a stasis charm while your brain healed.”

“How long have I been under?”

“It’s been a little over a month.”

Hermione gave a soft cry as she heard the news. She knew something had been going on during her semi-conscious state, but she didn’t think it had been that long.

“I want you to try to stay as calm as possible while I explain this to you. Do you understand?”

She nodded.

“The year is not 1999, it is 2006. It seems you have forgotten the last seven years, during that time you married Mr. Malfoy. He’s your husband.”

“But- No. I’m not sure how much he paid you to play this joke but it’s not funny. _I want Ron Weasley._ Please get him to come here. He’ll clear all this up,” she demanded.

Healer Morgan looked at her for a moment, Hermione wasn’t sure if she liked the sympathy shining through the woman’s eyes, “This is not a joke. No one paid anyone anything to play a prank. I’m sorry I wish it was that simple.”

With a complicated swish of her wand, a brain scan was pulled up. At first glance, there appeared nothing wrong with it. Then, it looked like the scan was cut in half. The entire inside of her brain was blinking a bright red color.

“Do you see this dear?” Morgan said motioning to the colors. “This is your limbic system. It’s where your emotions and memory are located. This is what was injured.”

Hermione stared at it for many moments, as the healer explained how parts of the brain were responsible for certain functions. Her memory loss is not unusual for an injury like hers Then she took a long breath before she finally resorted to begging.

“Just get Ron to come here. He should be my emergency contact.”

Healer Morgan summoned a clipboard that had documents on it. She shook her head. “It appears that you changed your emergency contact 6 years ago. I can still contact him if you insist, but let me give you some advice-”

“Ask him to come now.” Hermione interrupted in a severe tone.

“I will ask him to join us tomorrow. Visiting hours are almost over.” Morgan said as she left the room. A solemn look on her face.

Malfoy didn’t return to her room, she didn’t care to ask what happened to him.

Hermione’s brain was scrambling to make sense of everything that was going on. She was in such an unfamiliar environment. There were so many unknowns, it felt like a deep lake. Each unfamiliar depth was too hard to even contemplate.

So she focused on what she knew.

  1. She was in the hospital.
  2. She had some sort of accident.
  3. She thought it was 1999 and the healer thought it was 2005.
  4. Malfoy claimed to be her husband.
  5. Ron was nowhere to be found.



She repeated it.

Over and over.

Again and again.

She kept saying her list until the blood pounding in her ears captured all of her focus. Her chest felt close to bursting from the anxiety of it all. She dug her fingers into her palms in a useless attempt to win back some control. It was unsuccessful. Her breaths kept coming faster and faster.

She had to leave. Needed to get out of there. She wanted to wake up from her nightmare. She couldn’t do whatever it is she was expected to.

Unable to take it anymore, she threw the blankets off her legs and ignored her dizziness as she practically sprinted to the bathroom in her room.

When the water she splashed in her face didn’t wake her up, she took a look at herself in the mirror.

She watched as shaking fingers reached up to touch the face. She was older. Her hair was longer than she was used to. Her skin was clear, having lost the blemishes that mortified her as a teenager. Her figure fuller, as though she was not the same girl who survived on foraged foods while on the run.

She was not the same gawky girl that had helped save the Wizarding World. She didn’t know who this stranger was.

“Oh my god,” her reflection said to her. The voice was barely above a whisper.

Hermione was a girl- no woman, who relied on facts. She depended on evidence to form her decisions and reactions. But that night, she refused to listen to the overwhelming amount of facts that pointed to a truth that she couldn’t believe.

If she allowed herself to believe that 6 years had passed by without her realizing, that may mean the other things that she was told could also be true. The thought chilled her blood.

The pain in her chest turned into a dull roar as she slumped down on the nearest wall. She allowed a few tears to finally leak from her eyes as she struggled to rectify the impossible with the proof that had stared right back at her.

She didn’t know how much time had passed with her sitting on the ground feeling miserable for herself, but eventually, she lifted herself from the ground and began to stagger back to her bed.

She paused looking out the window of her room. Malfoy was sleeping on a chair outside of her room. His neck was crooked and bent at a strange angle. She saw his eyebrows furrowed and arms that were pulled tightly across his chest.

He looked like he was from waking. His face was absent of the normal serenity that usually accompanies sleep.

She gaped at him. Her mind filled with questions she didn’t know how to ask. How could someone so evil end up married to her?

Her mind, always playing devil’s advocate (even with herself), argued with her. Her sharp thoughts stabbed her.

_You thought he changed. Why would you try to keep a man you claim is evil out of Azkaban?_

She ignored herself and crawled back into her bed. She shut her eyes to feign sleep when she heard footsteps coming towards her room.

“How is she?” She heard a voice whisper outside from outside her room. She opened her eyes slightly to see Malfoy standing outside of her door waiting to accost the healer. This wasn’t Healer Morgan, this healer was younger, and a man.

“Mr. Malfoy, like we’ve discussed, she seems to have completely forgotten the last six years of her life. In her mind, it is 1999. Our current treatment plan involves re-introducing her to information slowly. Her brain is fragile as it is.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that we have to be cautious. If you just jump back into all of the memories you have with her, there’s a chance it can overwhelm her and cause permanent damage.”

“Are you saying that I’m just to pretend my wife isn’t my wife?” Draco demanded, as close to yelling as he possibly could while still maintaining his whisper.

“No sir. I’m saying that you should wait until she is stronger to talk about her past. There’s still a chance her memories could come back on their own. If you overwhelm her, the trauma from it may cause her neural pathways to be cut off forever.”

The healer’s voice was calm as he paused for a moment.

“I will discuss your case tomorrow with Healer Morgan and her entire team will determine a final course of treatment.”

“And in the meantime?” Draco asked through his teeth.

“Give her some space. She must be overwhelmed.”

“Thank you,” Draco muttered sarcastically. “Thank you for giving me permission, no, encouraging me to let my wife pretend she’s still in a relationship with her ex-boyfriend.”

“Mr. Malfoy-” the healer sputtered.

“Unless you have anything else to say about her care, I am finished talking to you,” he said, each word precise. The healer shuffled away. Hermione scoffed at his insolent behavior. Typical Malfoy.

“Hermione. Please come back to me,” a broken whisper said from the doorway.

No.

She didn’t expect that from him.

She shook off the pang of sympathy she felt for him as she turned on her side so she didn’t face the window. She closed her eyes tightly and tried to ignore all of the thoughts demanding her attention.

That night she dreamt of blonde bullies, failed relationships, and the 90s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	3. Ron

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a winter storm going on here in Texas so I wanted to post this chapter a little early while my power is still on. It's been touch and go since Sunday night, so I have no clue when it's going to be turned off again. 
> 
> I'm very thankful to have this story as something to think about while I'm freezing my butt off. I miss my 100+ degree heat. Let me know what you think about everything in this story so far!

She woke up the next morning to the sound of distant yelling.

“Where is she?” It was Ron. She breathed a sigh of relief. Everything was going to be fine with him here.

“What did you do to her?” he yelled.

Hermione winced at the noise as he came closer to the door.

“Listen, Weasley, you need to calm down before you go in there and see her,” Malfoy responded, his voice clipped. “She doesn’t need any more stress. If you don’t calm down you will not see her.”

Hermione could count on her fingers the number of times she had been thankful to Malfoy, she added this to the list as he saved her fragile brain from his screeching.

“Don’t you dare tell me what to do,” Ron threatened.

Hermione saw a pale hand holding Ron back in the doorway. His face was steadily growing red as he balked at Malfoy. Each word he spoke had a sharp edge to it.

“You have no right-”

“Actually I do have a right,” Draco interrupted, eerily calm. “I earned that right when I married her. You lost that privilege when you-”

“If you don’t shut up I swear- What happened is between me and-” She watched Ron's fingertips twitch towards his wand.

“And who? Your ex-girlfriend? The one you haven’t spoken to in years? That person?” Malfoy was incessant in his accusations.

“What happened between Hermione and me-” Ron spluttered, “Well that’s none of your business. I don’t have to explain myself to a bloody death eater.”

“You know the difference between you and me Weasley? I changed. I learned from my mistakes and grew up. You can’t say that. You’ve been stuck in the same rut for years. Unable to move on.”

“Stop Malfoy. Let him in.” Hermione demanded, interrupting this before things became violent.

Malfoy didn’t respond, but he moved just enough so that Ron had enough space to enter the room.

“Blimey Hermione, are you okay?” Ron asked as he took a seat by her bedside.

No.

She wasn’t okay.

Hermione bit her tongue. Afraid that she would actually burst if she tried to explain everything she was feeling. She forced a smile on her face and used a joke to mask her feelings.

“I’ve been better.”

Her eyes took in Ron with a hunger that surprised her. She thought she knew his face as well as she knew her own. Every difference felt enormously significant.

He had evidently aged as well. Instead of the shaggy hair she was used to, he had a short buzz cut. He was no longer the gangly boy she knew as a teen, instead, he had filled out. His chest and shoulders were larger than she remembered.

He had dark circles under his eyes. She wondered if that was due to his worry over her condition.

He grinned at her joke oblivious to her eyes wandering his face and body. He reached forward to grab her hand and held it tightly, despite her small wince.

“Oh Mione, I’ve missed you so much. I’m so glad you asked for me. The Healer says you have some memory loss. What exactly do you remember?” Ron asked carefully, his fingers stroked her knuckles.

Hermione thought to herself, “The last thing I remember, we had just gone to a ministry event.

Harry had proposed to Ginny. We had just started talking about moving in together.”

She said her brow wrinkled in confusion. “What happened between-”

He interrupted with a harsh voice he tried to smother with laughter, “Oh yes that day. I remember that day very well You were wearing the dress Mum forced you into. You said-”

“It made me look like a Hufflepuff with all the ruffles and frill,” Hermione finished for him. “Yes, I remember that, but what I don’t remember is-”

“Oh Mione, we can make this work. You can come back with me. You know, well you actually wouldn’t- but I’m living with Harry and Ginny. I’ve been helping out with the baby, although I guess he’s not a baby anymore.”

Hermione’s eyes widened at his words.

“Oh yeah, I forgot you probably wouldn’t know that huh. James is a rambunctious little 4-year-old. You’re actually James’s Godmother you know, although I don’t think you see him that often. Harry and Ginny were so worried when they heard what the Healer had said. They both want to see you as soon as they can.”

Ron rambled like the words couldn’t come out of his mouth fast enough. She struggled to grasp the new information he was throwing at her. Each small fact he gave her had her spiraling. It was too much all at once.

The Potters had kids? It was tough to imagine Harry as a father, especially since the last time she remembered seeing him was him throwing up all over the carpet in her flat. He had decided his proposal to Ginny ought to be celebrated with Firewhiskey and significantly miscalculated the number of drinks he could stomach.

As she was contemplating all of this new information, she looked over and saw Malfoy, frozen, watching them through the window to her room. His eyes were focused on her hand, currently intertwined with Ron’s.

His face was expressionless, and his jaw was clenched. His whole body taut as if someone made a sudden movement he would grab his wand and hex them.

“Well you know George asked me to join him in running the shop, but the Potters need me. I like feeling useful to them.”

She slowly removed her hand from Ron’s while she waited for him to stop talking.

“Ron,” She said as she waited for him to finish talking.

“Charlie’s been doing great things with his dragon habitat. His breeding program has really helped repopulate the species. Oh, and Dad, well obviously you know how Dad has been-”

“Ron!” she said exacerbated. “As much as I love hearing about your family. I need you to explain to me why we apparently haven’t spoken in years when last I remember we were happily in love.”

“Well-” Ron, for the first time wasn’t in a rush to get all of his words out, “Well, we had a bit of a falling out.”

Hermione watched from the corner of her eye as Malfoy gave a bitter laugh and pushed himself away from the window. Her gaze followed him for as long as she could before he disappeared.

“And why did we have a ‘falling out’?” Hermione asked. His evasiveness had started to grate on her nerves.

“Well, lots of reasons really. It’s hard to explain. We disagreed about a lot of stupid things. But listen, that’s not important. This is. This is our chance. We can have a do-over. Give us another chance to do this right. Hermione, I’ve missed you so much over these last few years. You don’t have to stay married to him,” he said motioning to the window where Malfoy still hadn’t returned.

He talked about Malfoy the same way a parent would refer to an ill-mannered teenager’s unfortunate piercing. It was like he was a mistake that Hermione made, but it wasn’t the end of the world.

Hermione let out a shaky breath. All this time she had been hoping that Ron would deny the fact that she had chosen, willingly, to marry a man she had once disagreed with on virtually every level.

But she had chosen him at some point in the last 7 years. How much merit were decisions that she couldn’t remember making?

“Right now, all I know is that you’re withholding information from me. I know that I had such a huge fight with you that we haven’t spoken to you in years. I know I married a man that I would, at one point, have preferred to be thrown in jail.” Hermione was beginning to blink back tears. Ron moved to grab her hand, but she yanked it away from him.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Hermione. It’s all going to be okay. Don’t cry,” Ron said to her. “Think of this like the opportunity it is, fate is telling you that you need a do-over. Make some different decisions and all that.”

“I think-” Hermione started then paused. “I think I need to be alone with my thoughts right now.”

“Okay,” Ron said immediately, “but don’t take too long. I’ll be here whenever you want me.”

His smile was wide as he walked out of her room.

He stopped at the door and sighed, “Oh I’ve missed you so much.”

He was barely gone before her headache became so sharp, she couldn’t focus on the deluge of information he had given her.

* * *

Hermione was left alone with her thoughts for a few hours. She tried to grasp for what she was forgetting, but it all felt fuzzy. It was like an image trying to be unfocused, but she didn’t know how to fix it.

She thought about Ron.

A lot.

She tried to piece together what he told her and what she thought actually had happened. Each time she focused on it too much, it was like a voice in the back of her head would start screaming at her to stop.

She didn’t want to think of other things. She wanted to figure this all out.

Hermione was left alone with her thoughts for a few hours. Eventually, the familiar face of Healer Morgan appeared in the doorway. She started her evaluation by asking Hermione the same basic questions to determine where her memory was at.

Once she finished with her questions, she started examining her brain scans from different angles.

“How are you feeling dear?” Morgan asked as she finished examining all of her vitals.

“Everything is slow, it’s like I’m walking through water. Time feels too long and too short at the same time,” Hermione said.

Morgan nodded, “That feeling is likely a side-effect from the stasis spell. I believe that will fade in a couple of days. But, you talked about the physical, but not the emotional side.”

“It feels like every time I try to think about everything my brain can’t handle it. I don’t like that feeling. I have so many questions and not enough answers.”

The ache that Hermione felt was more annoying than painful now. At least that was what she told herself. She was always hungry for information, but she felt very close to starving from the things she wanted to know.

“I’m afraid those are the normal side effects to your memory loss. Right now our best bet is to see if your memories come back over the next few days.”

Morgan pulled up an additional brain-scan and studied it for a few moments.

“I want you to stay another two nights for observation. I’ll go discuss with your treatment team and then we can see about your at-home treatment plan. Do you have any questions for me before I leave?”

“No, I don't.” Hermione felt dejected like she had been kicked in the chest, hard.

She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing for several minutes. She could tell that there were things missing, but anytime she became close to figuring it out, the sharp pains would return.

It was like there was a wall that prevented her from reaching the parts of her memories that seemed closed off to her.

“You can ask me anything you’d like. I’m good at answering questions.”

Her eyes sprung open as she looked at Malfoy in the corner of the room, trying to take up as little space as possible.

“We’ve been married for 3 years, dating even longer than that. There’s hardly anything about you that I don’t know,” he said as the corner of his mouth twitched as if he wanted to tell a joke but lacked the energy to come up with a proper punch line.

“Malfoy-” she started and paused as she watched the grimace flash over his face before he was able to contort his expression into the same eerily absent expression he was wearing earlier. “It’s not that I- Well I mean when I-” She said struggling to find the words to express how she felt.

“You don’t trust me,” Malfoy finished for her.

“Exactly. How can I be sure you’re telling the truth?”

She watched his gray eyes that were desperately searching her face for some kind of recognition.

They were the only things that portrayed the smallest ounce of emotion.

“Quiz me,” He said.

“Quiz you?”

“Yes. Let me prove that I know you. That at one point I was someone you’d trust. Ask me something that only you could have told me. Anything.”

“I don’t see how this will help,” Hermione argued.

“Yes, you do,” Malfoy smirked at her. He was right, it was a good idea. “Ask me.”

“Okay fine. Um,” Hermione said, trying to think of something. “What’s the name of my cat?”

“I knew his name when we were still at Hogwarts. It’s Crookshanks. Give me something harder than that.” The corners of his lips quirked as he watched her

“Okay... Who did I blackmail because they were an unregistered Animagus?”

“Rita Skeeter, she was a beetle,” Malfoy responded quickly as he took a tentative step towards her. “Another one,” He requested.

For the next couple of minutes, they went back and forth like that. Malfoy continued to answer her questions like her favourite soup “split pea”, or her favorite subject in primary school “all of them, but maths was the most fun”, he even knew her most embarrassing story, “cat hair and human hair look very different from each other, but I’ll give you a pass since you were only a second year.”

He even was able to almost word for word recall the story of the first time Hermione performed magic. “Your Mum didn’t know why all of the dishes she asked you to wash suddenly became woodland creatures. She thought she was going crazy.”

At that point, Hermione felt her patience shatter.

“This is all so ridiculous,” she exclaimed. “I think I’m losing my mind because Draco Malfoy apparently knows my muggle childhood and is okay with it?”

“I knew you were muggle-born when I married you, it obviously wasn’t a dealbreaker,” he said with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s hard to rectify the Malfoy that I knew at Hogwarts and the one standing in front of me right now.” A thought suddenly occurred to her, “Did I get you to change your whole personality or something?”

“You can take a lot of credit for making me a better man, but I don’t think you get the credit for that,” he said shaking his head, a small smile on his lips that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“When did you change?”

“Around sixth year is when I began questioning everything. That was the worst year of my life. I felt,” he paused, taking a moment for a deep breath, “lost. I was forced to grow up, and in ways, I didn’t want to.”

She nodded at him. Harry had told her about how he had refused, or couldn’t, kill Dumbledore.

“It wasn’t until after the war that I had to confront a lot of parts about myself. A lot of things that I thought were given were suddenly called into question. I didn’t realize until then that I was the bad guy in everyone’s story. I wanted differently for myself than that legacy. I didn’t like who I was. So, I decided to fix that.”

He continued, “All my life I was raised to believe that I was better than muggle-borns. That my blood gave me some moral and physical superiority over them. I echoed cruel things to you and others that I was taught at birth. And I am so incredibly sorry for ever making you feel like you didn’t belong. I would apologize to you every day if you'd let me.”

Hermione stared at him for several minutes as she tried to determine what the strange ache in her chest was.

“I don’t think I can just immediately forgive you for all you did.”

“That’s okay. It took you a long time the first time.” He nodded.

Despite her words, her sympathy flooded her without permission. No one chooses to be evil. Wickedness is crafted and molded. What right did she have to judge someone over things they wanted to change?

Finally, she spoke, “Your character is made up of the choices you made and will make. You can’t change the past, but I’m glad you chose to change the future. I hope I can continue to observe your change.”

To her surprise he laughed a little, “That is almost word for word what you said to me the first time I apologized. It’s good to know things haven’t changed that much.”

She huffed a surprised chuckle, as she felt the distance between them close a bit as she felt a bit of understanding for him for the first time.

“Would you like me to keep sitting with you or go wait outside?” He asked once they had been silent for a couple of moments.

“You don’t have to stay here. I’m sure nothing is going to change that much while you’re gone.”

He looked at her like she just suggested something unthinkable. “I’m not about to leave my wife alone in the hospital.”

“I’m just saying, you look like you haven’t left St. Mungos in weeks.”

“That’s because I haven’t,” he said, then continued noticing her expression. “Theo brought me some clothes to change into and I’ve been using bathing charms to stay clean.”

“That’s insane. I wasn’t even conscious for most of the time you were here.”

“I wasn’t about to-” he paused, “I was afraid that if I left something would happen to you and I wouldn’t be here for it.”

“Well, obviously I’m stable enough to not need constant surveillance. I think you can afford to take a break from this place.”

“Now I’m afraid you’re going to flee without saying anything to me.” He continued calmly as if he didn’t just confess a deep insecurity to her.

“I’m not going anywhere. The only question is, do you want me to stay in your room or would you feel more comfortable with me sitting outside?”

“I think I’d like to be alone,” she said.

“Okay. I’ll be right out here if you need me.”

* * *

Hermione was getting tired of the four walls that she stared at without end. Her vision specialist was worried that reading would strain her eyes, so she wasn’t allowed a book. This was a magical hospital so there wasn’t even a television that could take her mind off of things. So, Hermione was left with her own worst enemy, her thoughts.

For the next two days, Hermione was often lying in her bed with her eyes squeezed shut. Her consciousness searched desperately for the forgotten memories. She’d focused as long as she could on accessing parts of her brain that were closed off until her temples throbbed, and she was forced to take a break. During her breaks, she’d stare unblinkingly at the ceiling desperate for something to come to her.

Other than the occasional healer coming to check up on her, she was all alone.

Eventually, the silence grew too uncomfortable for her to listen to, and she called out, “Malfoy can you come in here?”

He hadn’t stopped camping outside of her door. He usually sat in a chair facing her door, his knee bouncing up and down. Other times, usually when she pretended to be asleep, he’d stand at the window and watch her. When she’d open her eyes he’d quickly return to his seat and face the door in stoic silence.

He was at the doorway immediately. “Are you okay?” His body was tensed.

“As okay as I can be. I’m just bored,” she sighed.

She felt herself blush at the fact that she had become desperate enough for interaction that she called him inside.

He was walking towards her before she had finished speaking. He took a seat in the empty chair next to her, “I’m great at handling boredom.”

“Is that a special skill set of yours?”

“Only when it comes to you. I’ll come in on a damn unicycle if it’d make you happy.”

She laughed. “Would you now?”

“Cross my heart. How would you like me to entertain you? I don’t have my unicycle with me currently, but I can rectify that if needed.” He smiled at her. She thought that was the first genuine smile that she saw from him, ever. It was strange to actually watch him show emotion on his face.

“How about just some answers to a few questions? Maybe unicycle tricks can come later. Just go slow. Too much information at once hurts.”

Anytime she was overloaded with information, she felt like a glass being overfilled and parts of her spilled over the edge. He nodded waiting for her to ask her question.

“The last I remember I was working a temp job under the Minister. I wasn’t sure what department I wanted to work in, what did I end up doing?” she asked.

He continued smiling as he explained all about her job at the Ministry and some of the inventions she came up with in her department.

He reached into his pocket to grab a cell phone and held it out for her to see. 

“This is probably your most famous invention. It took a few months of breaking phones to get all the charms to stick to it. I’m still not 100 percent sure how you managed it.”

Her mouth fell open as she watched him tap his wand on the phone, bright light illuminating the room. She reached for the phone before she could stop herself. Realizing that it was considered rude to grab someone’s phone without their permission, she mumbled an apology.

“Take it, I’ve got nothing to hide from you. Besides, you're the only person I use the thing with. I uh-” he rubbed his neck and grinned sheepishly, “I can barely figure out how to work it, so I don’t use it often. Usually, I just look at whatever you send me.”

She turned the phone over, it looked completely different from what she expected from a cell phone. Last she remembered cell phones were bigger.

“I think you called this phone a blackberry?” Malfoy said his brow furrowing at the device, “Or was it a blueberry? It gets confusing when Muggles insist on naming all their things after food.”

“Where’s the battery?” She kept turning the phone over and over. He smiled at her.

“That’s part of your genius. Most wizarding families don’t have electricity so you powered the phone using a variation of patronus charm. Our magic keeps it working.”

“Oh.” It was genius, “It’s not every day you get to be impressed by something you don’t remember doing.” A nervous laugh escaped from her.

“You’re an impressive person.” Once they both stopped talking the air in the room grew heavy. Eventually, he cleared his throat.

“Any other questions?”

“I think it’s probably smart to quit before it’s too much.”

“Still bored?”

“No. Just slightly overwhelmed at my vocational history. Thank you for telling me all that.” She gave him a small smile.

“You don’t need to thank me,” He stood and brushed off his pant legs, “I’ll be right out here if you need anything.”

She didn’t think that she was going to be caught dead asking him for anything else, but she thought at the very least he was a convenient question-answerer.

* * *

That night she dreamt of a beautiful woman.

_“Hello dear.” Her angelic voice floated to her. “I have a present for you.”_

_Hermione was giddy with the anticipation of what this angelic being could possibly give her. She was so beautiful, so kind. Hermione wanted to do anything to please her._

_The alluring woman left the room she was in, Hermione was transfixed by the beautiful blonde hair that seemed to float down her back in perfect ringlets. When the woman was out of her sight,_ _Hermione looked around._

_There were no doors in this room._

_The woman returned after a few moments. The woman was holding Ron’s hand. She was surprised to notice that Ron didn’t glance at the beautiful woman. He was transfixed by Hermione instead._

_His mouth was opened as he drooled over her. He looked so desperate for her._

_“There you go dear, I brought him just for you.”_

_She had never been so proud to receive a gift from such a beautiful person. It was a luxury to be chosen to deserve such a present. She greedily ran towards Ron._

_“Hermione wait-“ She heard a desperate voice call from behind her._

_She turned around to see Malfoy reaching for her. He was too far to touch her. She stared at his wretched face before it became too blurry for her to see._

_The beautiful woman had stepped closer to her, the woman’s hand drifted to Hermione’s head._

_With a pleasurable push, Hermione’s feet began walking towards Ron._

_She ignored the calls from Malfoy as she walked to what she knew was her destiny._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	4. Grimmauld Place

“List of instructions ma'am,” a man squeaked as he came into her room. She saw Malfoy stand up from his chair outside and into the doorway to listen in.

“No bright lights. Nothing that can seriously strain your eye. We don’t want you going to work until we clear you on a follow-up visit. Keep reading to a minimum of 2 hours each day.” Hermione balked but the healer continued,

“We still recommend introducing memories slowly so that you don’t overwhelm yourself. But we’ll leave it up to your jurisdiction on what you think you’re ready for. If you feel you can handle something, you are welcome to ask others for memories.”

“Lastly,” the small man looked suddenly uncomfortable as his eyes darted away from Hermione’s face for a second to the blonde leaning on the doorframe, and then back to her, “No sex. Of any kind. With anybody.”

Heat flooded to her cheeks before she could stop it. She risked a glance at Malfoy, who, for his credit, showed no sign of outward discomfort or embarrassment.

Then Hermione realized, he probably wouldn’t be embarrassed. The healer was talking about his wife after all. He wouldn’t giggle like a schoolgirl at the first mention of anything sexual.

“We can discuss during follow-up visits when you can resume those activities. It all depends on your healing of course. Magical brain injuries aren’t one to scoff at. Intercourse causes an increase in heart rate which leads to-”

“Okay!” she exclaimed. She wanted to crawl under a rock and disappear for years. “I understand. No uh sex. Got it. I’ll- wait until the follow-up visit to see when- I mean. I don’t think I’m going to have to worry about that anytime soon. It’s not that-” her voice trailed off, she tried to ignore the obvious fact that cheeks were probably painted red, indicating just how embarrassed she was. Her eyes settled on her hands clenched in her lap.

“Well, I’ll leave you two alone. I’ll give you a written copy of your instructions.” Hermione couldn't tell if she was more or less comfortable now that it was just her and Malfoy alone.

She was mortified. She didn’t particularly like talking about intimacy in general, but this was too much. She repeated the conversation over in her mind.

“When you can resume those activities,” The healer had said.

Resume.

As in, there had once been a time when that thing would have reasonably happened between them.

Merlin.

She wasn’t naive about what happened in a marriage bed, but out of all of the life-changing revelations she’s had over the past few days, she hadn’t devoted the time to ponder her sexual habits with her husband.

It wasn’t as if she were a blushing virgin, but the fact that she couldn’t remember someone sleeping with her felt like a violation of trust. What made it worse is that there was nobody she could be mad at because of it.

She suddenly remembered that he was still in the room. Summoning all of the Gryffindor courage she had left in her, she looked up. Malfoy hadn’t moved from his spot, frozen at the doorway watching Hermione like she was a flight risk.

“Would you like to talk about it?” he asked. “Or do you just want me to leave?”

It was one of the few times that Hermione felt she didn’t know the answer to a question.

“Yes- No- I don’t know.” She gave him an exasperated sigh.

“Those are generally the three answers to a yes or no question,” he said without a hint of a smile. His eyes were glued to hers.

“It’s just a lot.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what you’re going through. But I don’t want you to worry about that,” he said, his hand reaching to rub the back of his neck, his cheeks pinking. “I’m not expecting anything.”

She nodded at him letting the small sensation of relief wash over her as she watched him finally show some embarrassment on a typically expressionless face. It had been feeling horribly one-sided.

“Well, any other awkward conversations you want to get out of the way?” he said. His face had resumed to its natural state of aloofness as he raised his eyebrows at her. “After all we haven’t talked about finances yet.”

“None right now. I’m sure something will come up soon though.”

He nodded at her and left the room, returning to his chair outside like a guard returning to their post.

She couldn’t stop thinking about her marriage bed, her face progressively heating up as she imagined different scenarios. Some enjoyable, others horror inducing.

She was in the middle of pondering what Malfoy looked like without a shirt when a familiar redhead walked through the door.

“It looks like I always have to figure out everyone’s problems for them,” Ginny said sighing into the chair near Hermione.

“Ginny?” Hermione sat up in her bed a thankful feeling rushing through her whole body. “Did Ron ask you to come?”

Ginny shook her head, “No, Malfoy did. He called when you were talking to Ron. Something about him needing someone remotely on his side.”

Noticing Hermione's jaw had dropped to her chest, Ginny shrugged. “What, I’m not allowed to be on friendly terms with your husband?”

Hermione shook her head. “I thought, well with how Ron phrased it, I didn’t think I was on speaking terms with anyone from school.”

“Well, I’m sure even 1999 Hermione knows that my brother is an idiot,” Ginny said, shaking her head. “You and I have tea dates. I’m one of the few that only views your husband as just a prat instead of a disappointment to the wizarding kind. I wish I could say the same about the rest of the Weasleys. My idiotic husband included.”

“So, you’re on his side?”

She laughed. “Absolutely not. I’m on your side.” she paused as her voice cracked a bit, “I’ve been so worried about you, I would have been by your bedside this whole time but with James, it was too hard to get away.”

“It’s okay, I’m doing much better than I was.”

“Yes, Malfoy has been keeping me updated.” Ginny took a few moments to look around the room before her gaze returned on Hermione, an intense expression on her face.

“I was so worried,” Ginny repeated in a small voice.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not like it’s your fault.” Her hand moved to rub comforting circles on Hermione’s arm.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t know. I just need- I don’t even know what I need.”

“You’ve gone through a lot in just a few days.”

“That’s the understatement of the century Gin.”

That caused Ginny to smile. Her face looked like a child’s picture book, every expression was easy to read and intending to cause comfort.

“I wish I could help you. My experience with problem-solving usually ends with me giving someone a cookie. It works for James, and his father actually. I could always try that with you?” she said, her eyes crinkling.

“Tell me about them.” She was starved for any information that she could receive.

Ginny smiled as she began talking about her beautiful boy and happy family. James was, according to Ginny, the best child that has ever been born in the history of the world. Even if he never wanted to be put down for a nap.

Eventually, Healer Morgan walked in with Malfoy following in quickly at her heels. She handed Hermione a brochure about memory loss along with a piece of paper listing all of her instructions.

“I wanted to speak with you one last time before you were discharged. I would like to see you regularly for follow-up visits. An owl will be sent weekly asking for updates on your condition,” She paused and looked at Malfoy, “Is the address you gave on her intake paperwork where you would like to receive your mail?” “

Yes,” he responded for her, “She’ll be coming home with me.”

“Okay.” Morgan nodded, “Be cautious with her headaches. With any intense pain, she should come back for a check-up.”

“What exactly equals intense pain?” Ginny asked the healer poking Hermione in the stomach, “Because she’s notorious for lying about stuff like that.”

Hermione’s eyes were wide as she watched all of them talk about her instead of to her. Her whole body had begun shaking slightly as she thought about having to live with Malfoy.

“As long as she is able to talk through the pain, I wouldn’t be too worried about it."

“Any specific dietary concerns you have?” Malfoy asked, he had summoned a small notebook and muggle pen to begin to take notes.

She wasn’t sure if she was even comfortable being alone with him yet. Yes, they’d made progress over the last few days. That didn’t mean she was comfortable moving in with him like they were a happy couple.

“None that I can think of. Alcohol is okay as long as it is consumed in moderation.”

“Hear that Mione,” Ginny said as she nudged Hermione with a grin, “Looks like we can’t be opening up the wine every weekend like we used to.”

“ _I don’t want to stay with him._ ” Hermione finally said with a force that surprised herself. Her voice didn’t even sound like her own.

Both women turned towards Hermione with surprise on their faces. Malfoy had grown very still as he refused to make eye contact with her. He stared down at his shoes instead.

“Mrs. Mal- uh Hermione, if I may, the best way to regain your memories is to attempt to return to your normal life. The more routines you can resume the better,” Healer Morgan said.

“I can’t. It’s all too much.” Hermione’s breath was coming faster and faster at the thought of being forced to stay with Malfoy. 

Ginny, noticing Hermione’s panic, rested a hand on her shoulder, “It’s okay. You can come stay with me. I can take care of you until you’re comfortable going back.”

“I think that might be best," she said. Malfoy's shoulders were slumped, he still didn’t look up at her.

“I just can’t right now. I’m not saying it’s just. Too much.” She was desperate to see his eyes.

He finally looked up, a grave expression in his eyes. She wished she could find the words to soothe his obvious sorrow, she wasn’t sure that those words existed. His breath was shaky when he exhaled loudly.

“I’ll just get packed right now,” Hermione said, though she wasn’t sure who she was talking to as Ginny had walked forward to talk to Malfoy in a hushed tone.

Once she had finished gathering the belongings that she assumed Malfoy had brought to the hospital for her, she looked up at Malfoy watching her.

“I’ll walk you both to the floo then,” he said through clenched teeth. He stayed a few steps behind Hermione and shoved his hands into his pockets. The movement slightly masked the subtle drooping of his shoulders.

Ginny walked ahead of them, either in an attempt to give them some space or to avoid the awkwardness, she didn’t know.

All she knew was that it was the longest walk of her life, every step echoed, and she didn’t know if she wanted to walk faster and escape Malfoy and all the anxieties he caused or stay at his side and beg him to tell her everything. She paused when she got to the floo.

Hermione nodded at him in her version of an awkward goodbye and follow Ginny to the floo. He reached out and grabbed her arm to force her to face him. His grip was tight. His eyes locked hers in place; his gaze demanding her attention.

“Just- Hermione I know you don’t trust me. You have a million reasons not to. But trust yourself. You are the smartest person I know. Believe in the decisions you made. If you trust in one thing trust this,” he said pointing at her head.

“Because we were so happy. We were gloriously, obnoxiously happy. I know you don’t remember it, but don’t give up on that. Please.”

She winced when she heard his voice break at the end.

“I just need time,” she squeaked, taken aback by the intensity in his eyes.

“Take it,” Malfoy said immediately, “Take anything you need. Please just know-” He paused and ran a hand through his unkempt hair. “Know that I will do anything for you. Just ask and it’s yours. Come back to me when you’re ready. I’ll be waiting.”

He held her arm for a moment longer, his hungry eyes devouring her. He was like a man going blind memorizing his favorite piece of artwork while he still could. Finally, he let her go.

“He’s right you know,” Ginny said, waiting for her at the floo. “You were horrible to be around. It made me nauseous to look at you two. All that love that you shared.”

She shook her head as it pained her to admit it. Hermione wasn’t able to respond as Ginny went into the fireplace to floo to her and Harry’s place. Hermione followed after her shortly.

* * *

She was shocked to see how different Grimmauld Place looked. The last time she’d been there it felt cold and distant. Now, it felt like an actual home.

She imagined that Ginny was responsible for most of the changes. There was a large brown couch in the middle of the room that was reminiscent of the couch that Hermione, Ron, and Harry had once sat on when they discussed Horcruxes.

She looked around as she took in all of the changes. The artwork and pictures no longer showed the Black family. Instead all around were pictures of the Weasley and Potter family. Every spot on the wall was filled with memories she didn’t have.

A two-year-old child ran between the legs of a smiling Ginny and Harry. Ron and George flying on a broom waving at the camera while a flash of brown hair raced past in the background. Luna, Neville, and Ginny sipping on cups of tea. There were pictures of birthdays, celebrations, weddings, entire walls of memories. Hermione's gaze flickered from picture to picture, reminders of friendship, family, love. She wasn’t in a single picture.

Ginny had walked off into another part of the house, presumably grabbing Harry. Hermione felt uneasy as she stared at all the memories surrounding her.

She was still examining the pictures around her when her breath exited her chest in a rush. A pair of strong arms wrapped around her waist and spun her in the air. “Hermione!”

Hermione, still shocked from the sudden embrace, looked down at the smiling face of Harry Potter. His joy was so infectious that Hermione forgot about the pounding headache that was exacerbated by his jostling of her.

“Harry you bloody idiot. She just got out of the hospital!” Ginny exclaimed, she had taken a seat on the sofa in the middle of the room.

“Oh right.” He said setting her down gently, a sheepish smile on his face.

“I couldn’t help it; I’ve missed you so much,” he said. They stared at each other for a few moments, unsure what to say.

“Take a seat, Hermione,” Ginny said, patting the couch next to her.

“Oh, uh okay. Where is…” Hermione's unspoken question prompted an eye raise from Ginny.

“Harry and I both asked Ron to stay at the Burrow for the next couple of days,” Ginny told her. She could see Harry from the corner of her eye. He did not look like this was something he agreed upon.

“You’re going through enough as it is without him pestering you.” Ginny had stopped looking at Hermione and was facing Harry, her eyebrow cocked as if she was daring him to argue.

“Oh,” Hermione said. Her first instinct was to agree with Ginny, but she paused for a moment. All of a sudden thoughts seemed to be racing in her head.

_You want to see him._

_He wants to see you._

_Why not?_

Hermione was never one to argue with her own feelings.

“Well, that’s not necessary. I don’t want to kick him out of his home.”

Before Ginny could respond, Harry grinned like a kid on Christmas morning. “See Gin. I told you that she’d want him here.”

“Hermione, I don’t think it’s a good idea for him to come. Plus, I promised Malfoy he wouldn’t be here,” Ginny said as she glanced between Hermione and Harry.

Harry scoffed, his face bitter, “Oh who cares what Malfoy has to say about this. He doesn’t get to make Hermione’s decisions for her. You let me know Mione, do you want Ron here or not?”

“I would like to see him,” she said her voice was small. While she trusted what Ginny was saying she did. But she wanted Ron. He was comforting for her, and right now she needed all the comfort she could get.

Ginny threw up her hands in the air and left the room, muttering something about ‘meddling husbands and clueless best friends’.

Harry conjured a Patronus charm to contact Ron. When he finished, he turned to Hermione with a big smile.

“Oh, Mione this is going to be just like old times.”

“And would you like to explain to me why us seeing each other is such a grand occasion? Why did we stop talking? Is it because of Malfoy?” she asked watching his expression become guarded.

“There are many reasons we don’t see each other that often.” His eyes were focused on a picture on the wall.

“Feel free to elaborate on that.” Hermione was trying not to groan audibly when he didn’t immediately respond. She figured that maintaining her composure would likely end with more answers for her.

“It’s not my story to tell,” he said avoiding her gaze.

“I really don’t see how our friendship ending has anything to do with Ron.”

“It just does okay Hermione,” he said a little exasperated. “Why can’t we just enjoy the fact that we are speaking again?”

“Because to me, it doesn’t feel any different! It’s not a big deal that we are speaking because in 1999 we spoke virtually every day!”

“Well, that was before you made some dumb decisions. But again, that’s Ron's business to tell you.”

Hermione could tell when she was fighting a losing battle. Harry was stubborn enough to not answer any of her questions.

She took a deep breath. “Okay then, can you at least introduce me to your kid then?”

He grinned at her.

“Absolutely.” Harry jumped up to go find his son.

A few moments later, Harry returned with a miniature version of himself holding tightly to his hand. When he made eye contact with her, he immediately let go of his father’s hand and ran to Hermione.

“Mione! Mione! I missed you!” He said wrapping his arms around her neck squeezing her tiny. Hermione couldn’t help the smile that came out of her.

“James,” Harry said gently. “Remember what I told you? Aunt Hermione was sick, we need to be very careful with her.”

James immediately let go of her with a remorseful expression on his face.

“I’m so sorry!” he said jumping off of her to give her space.

“It’s okay James. My brain is just being a little silly right now,” Hermione said as her eyes reacquainting herself with his face.

He looked like a miniature Harry. His cheeks still round and chubby, but he was growing into a little man. He had a couple of features that screamed Weasley. He had her blue eyes, and her long nose as well. He was absolutely perfect.

“When I’m silly Mum tells me it’s time for a nap. You should go to bed and then you’ll feel better,” James reasoned. She couldn’t fault the logic of a 4-year-old.

“I think I’ll try that. Thanks, kiddo.”

“You’re welcome. Can I show you my new toys now?” He asked.

When she nodded he grabbed onto her hand and led her to his room.

James had a lot of toys. More than Hermione thought could reasonably fit into a small playroom. He took out gadgets and gizmos and explained the origin of them. Some of his toys were muggle others magical. Each toy, according to James, deserved to be treasured.

Hermione laughed as he mimed how he was going to ride on a big boy broomstick once his dad finally gave him one. He was gesturing wildly as he explained the story of his first time on his toy broomstick.

“You know I always thought you’d be a good Mum, but it’s different seeing you in action,” A voice said from behind her.

Hermione looked up to see Ron leaning against the doorframe and watching her with a smile. Her heart ached as she looked at him again. Harry was right behind him, an excited look on his face.

“Okay James, I think it’s time you stop bothering your Aunt and show me your toys instead.” He squatted as he went to pick up James.

With only a few protests, Harry convinced him that they could go out in the backyard and fly in the backyard together.

Before he left, he looked up at Ron and Hermione and told them, “Ginny is napping, but you can go in the living room to talk and we won’t bother you.”

She was holding her breath as she followed Ron to the couch. She didn’t realize how strange it was that she sat almost directly on top of him until she saw Ron’s wide eyes.

Her cheeks burned as she slowly lifted herself to the other side of the couch, mumbling a quiet apology. His grin was wide and intoxicating.

How had so much gone wrong between them?

He was supposed to be the one. She was planning a life with him. A future that was taken away before she even realized she lost it. One night she was thinking of weddings and children, and the next everything was broken.

Ron watched her, the smile refusing to drop from his face. Once he made it clear he wasn’t going to be the first to start talking, Hermione finally broke their silence.

“Are you going to tell me what happened to us? This-” she motioned to the pictures on the wall. “Is not normal? What happened?”

Hermione’s voice came out more demanding than she thought it would. Ron looked similar to when she would lecture him about completing his homework back at school. He looked like he would rather be anywhere than here.

“Well- I mean breakups are never easy.”

“Most breakups don’t end with you marrying your archnemesis from school and never talking to your best friends again.” She wanted to beg him to give her some minute detail that would make it all make sense to her.

“Blimey Hermione, you’re putting me in an impossible situation. Ginny told me all about your restrictions,” He said his eyes staring at her pointedly. “I don’t think immediately launching into the history of the last seven years of is ‘introducing memories slowly.’”

“Breakups are never as simple as one reason,” Hermione said, her voice shrinking. She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. She wanted to break something.

Hermione had her whole life planned out with him. Not only did she assume, she knew that they were endgame. Now she sat on a couch, simultaneously too far and too close to a man that she could have sworn was her soulmate yesterday. There was never supposed to be an autopsy on her lost love with him.

“Can’t you give me a single reason?” she said searching his face for some semblance of an answer.

“Well, after the war, it was hard. You know we lost Fred and so many others. It took me some time to, ya know, really find myself.”

“And?” she prompted. She didn’t know a single person who didn’t have PTSD after the war. She couldn’t imagine she would break up with him over his mental health struggles. Hermione still woke up most nights with nightmares about what happened to her during the war.

“And, it was hard to be in a relationship when you’re working on yourself,” Ron said. “That’s all I want to say for right now. Please drop it.”

She reached out to touch him on the shoulder and pull him back so she could demand answers. He shrugged her arm off of him as he stood. She felt hopeless as she watched him pace a few feet from her.

“I can’t just drop it! I need to know why. I need answers. Why have we drifted so far apart? I’ve woken up from a dream and into a nightmare that I cannot understand.” She took a few moments to collect her broken thoughts.

Ron was still pacing away from her. Each step felt like a weight onto her tired shoulders.

Her voice was shaking when she finally spoke again, “I thought you and Harry were going to be there for me forever. Apparently, you’ve both abandoned me!”

Like something in him shattered he whipped his face around to stare at her. He walked towards her, his face growing redder with each step.

“You were the one that decided to go marry that bloody death eater Hermione. Do you hear me? You. Left. Us.”

Each emphasized word, every syllable, each sound was a slap to her already sensitive psyche. She shook her head trying to move her mouth to form some sort of denial.

She couldn’t find the right words to tell him that he was mistaken.

“That’s hard to hear, isn’t it? That you’d choose him over us. But that’s what you did. You chose HIM over ME! After all we’d been through, you chose him.” His voice broke.

“That doesn’t make sense. I don’t understand,” Hermione said mostly to herself. She wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t. Would she?

“That’s what I thought. You left our family and started a new one without any space for me,” He said turning around to catch his breath.

Time was frozen as she sat there staring at his tensed shoulders. She felt as if all she could hear was the sounds of her breaths coming in and out of her.

He whirled back his warm hands grabbing her cold ones and splaying her fingers across his chest. She could feel his pulse racing.

“Look at this like the opportunity it is. Choose better this time.” She shook her head as he continued.

“Choose me. The past is the past. Who gives a fuck about the mistakes we made years ago? What I care about is us. We would have such a beautiful family, a beautiful life together.”

His voice left vibrations up and down her skin as he continued his begging. “Hermione I still love you,” he choked out.

“I’ve never stopped loving you. I will never stop loving you.”

She couldn’t breathe.

Every centimetre he inched closer to her felt like another shot to her lungs. His face was right in front of hers as he stole her air.

“Choose me,” he said. His first kiss, a strike to her jaw.

She didn’t think that she had ever truly understood the word yearn until that very moment. She had never felt wanting so ingrained in her entire being. She bit her lip to stop her from professing her love to him.

“Choose me.” His second kiss was an ambush near her ear. Her eyes had fluttered closed somewhere between his first and second kiss. At some point, his lips had become a welcome invasion.

“Choose me.” He kissed her cheek. If her current self wanted him, what right did her past have to dictate what she chose?

There was something she was missing. Something she didn’t understand.

She was about to pull away when she saw his eyes. His beautiful eyes. They gleamed with the hope of first love and broken promises. She was lost in the expression. He was so familiar, so comfortable. She watched him lean towards her mouth.

She opened her mouth to voice her denial. His lips hovered right above hers. He waited for her decision as both refused to move.

Her mouth slammed shut and she reached forward to crash her lips into his. Familiar electricity ran through her skin. Ron’s hands immediately tangled in her curls. Their kiss was all teeth and tongue as they pulled each other closer. So impossibly close.

She still wanted to be closer.

She kissed him once for all the fear she had had over the past couple of days.

She kissed him again for the love she still felt deep in her heart. She kissed him a third time to forget that she had ever decided to leave him. She kissed him a fourth time because it was all she wanted to do.

He groaned into her mouth, a deep guttural thing as she pushed him into the couch. Her legs straddled him as she began to grind against him.

Eventually, a voice in the back of her head gave her a momentary pause.

_This isn’t right._

She ignored it as she pressed her body into Ron’s. Her fingers began unbuttoning his shirt.

_You need to stop._

She didn’t stop.

Instead, she kept breathing open-mouthed broken promises and apologies into Ron. His hand traveled down her back and ground her hips into his. She could feel his desire pressing into her.

_You are going to regret this._

She wouldn't. She wanted. She wanted him so bad. She had never felt a desire burn her like this. It consumed her. She wanted to show him what it used to be like. How much they both still obviously loved each other.

 _You didn’t choose him for a reason_.

She threw herself off of him as the thought burned her. He watched her, a predator stalking prey. The hunger in his eyes was palpable.

Her hand traveled up to her swollen lips, as shame and horror swirled throughout her body.

“That wasn’t right. Oh my god, why did I do that?” she said mostly to herself.

“Hermione that’s the first right decision you’ve made in years,” Ron said, still resting on the couch. His arms were stretched across the couch. His smile lazy. “You felt how good that was. Don’t forget what we had. Focus on that. We have enough chemistry to get through all of this.”

“Oh my god,” Hermione kept repeating. “Oh my god. Oh my god.”

“You’re acting like we did something horrible,” he said she had begun pacing in the living room mumbling to herself. “Talk to me Hermione,” He stood so he could put two hands on her shoulders to stop her pacing. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking that nobody deserves what I just did to Malfoy,” she said as she threw his arms off of her shoulders and resumed her pacing.

“Hermione stop,” he demanded. “You don’t owe him anything. Forget him. He isn’t important.”

“He obviously was important to me at some point. I married him. He had to have been someone special to me once. I mean- Merlin, he stayed at my bedside for an entire month.”

Hermione gasped. Her eyes growing wide with her horror. Every single thing she felt was burying her alive.

“He stayed at my bedside for a month, and the first thing I did the moment away was betray him.”

As she became numb to her shame, her anger built. She didn’t know who to direct her vitriol at, Ron for being complicit in her treachery or herself for committing the crime.

“You made a mistake. You know you don’t belong with him. We were always meant to be,” Ron said to her. “I love you, Hermione.”

She took a shaking breath as she turned to walk to the guest room Harry had set up for her.

“I need to be alone. I need you to leave me alone right now.”

“Okay," he said as his fingertips reach out for her, but he clenched his fists at his side instead.

Hermione wanted to shrivel into a tiny ball and cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos make my day :)
> 
> New Updates (hopefully) Every Week  
> [Follow me on Tumblr!](https://forgotten-traveler.tumblr.com/)


	5. Advice

Only a few hours later, Hermione was keeping herself busy by picking at the skin around her fingers and counting (and re-counting) all of the days that she couldn't remember. 

Occasionally, her shaking fingertips would drift to her swollen lips before she'd remember she was trying not to think about what had happened. As soon as she realized what exactly she was thinking of, she would jerk her hand away from her face as if she touched a burning stovetop. 

Her betrayal was suffocating, and she couldn't decide who she had been more disloyal to, her husband or herself. 

If she could rip out the incessant ache in her chest she would have. Every beat of her throbbing heart reminded her of something she wasn’t used to feeling. Wrong. She was wrong. 

The worst part of it was how much she had enjoyed her wickedness. Evil things weren’t supposed to feel good. It should burn, but there was an exquisite ache left from Ron’s lips and hands.

How was she supposed to figure out what she was feeling when there was such a beautiful pleasure with her pain.

When she was busy occupying herself with the meaningless task of memorizing the exact shade of the ceiling, she heard a knock at the door.

“Go away.”

She rolled on her side so she couldn’t look at the doorway.

“It’s me.” She looked up so she could see Ginny walk in without permission. She was holding a tray filled with cookies and a cup of tea.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Hermione sniffed and turned her head away.

“You’re going to explode if you keep all of this inside.” Ginny held out the tray to Hermione, “At the very least take a cookie. It’s a lot harder to be sad when you’re eating a cookie.

She shook her head but found herself reaching for the tray anyways. Ginny waited patiently as Hermione busied herself with making sure her tea had the exact amount of sugar and milk.

Finally, Hermione looked up and nodded.

“I think you’re right.”

“About the cookie or the talking part?” Ginny quirked an eyebrow at her.

“Both actually,” she said as she tried and failed to smile at the joke. “Ginny I’m so confused. I think everyone is lying to me or trying to twist my memory so they can- I don’t even know what for.”

Ginny watched her for a few moments before she spoke again. “I think you feel that way-“ she was speaking slowly as if she was choosing her words extremely carefully, “Well, I think you feel that way because that is exactly what’s happening.”

“What do you mean?”

“Hermione, I love you. You’re my best friend, and I’m pretty sure that I’m the only one that even remotely tolerates your husband. I don’t want to ruin any of what you had,” she paused as she took a deep breath, “I just want what’s best for everyone. Some serious shit when down with you and Ron, even with Harry too. It seems like I’m always stuck in the middle of it.”

“No one’s telling me anything. I know the healers wanted me to be introduced to my memories slowly, but I feel like I’m just going to combust if I have to hear anything else with a double meaning.”

“What exactly did Ron say to you? How did he explain it to you?” 

“He said that I left everyone behind. He was so angry about that. That doesn’t make sense. Why would I do that?” she asked with a desperate expression on her face. She wanted some magical answer that would make everything make sense.

“Well, that’s only a partial truth.” Ginny summoned a cup of tea that she could sip on as well. “You didn’t leave all of us behind. I wouldn’t let you leave me. You got married to a man you love; you’re allowed to do that.” 

Hermione nodded through her confusion.

“Ron tried to get you to take him back so many times, but each time you refused. Harry was so furious that you just wouldn’t date him again. He wanted everything to be easy.” 

“But why did we break up in the first place?” Hermione asked. There was a slight thrill of anticipation that ran through Hermione’s body as she was inundated with the information that she had craved.

Ginny shook her head sadly.

“Honey I love you. But I also love my brother. I told him I’d let him tell you his side. He promised me he’d tell you as soon as he can.”

She could understand Ginny’s reasoning. It was an impossible situation, and she couldn’t fault Ginny for her familial loyalty.

Ginny continued, “He thinks this is his do-over. He wants to do things right this time. I promise he’s going to tell you the truth, but he just- wants to find the right way to do it. Harry agrees with him. They’re both so desperate to have you in their life again. They weren’t lying when they said they missed you.”

Ginny’s expression was hard to decode as she chewed on her lip. She looked a strange combination of hopeful and nervous.

“I sort of understand why Ron and I aren’t friends, but what happened with Harry? Why do we not talk?”

It wasn’t just that they didn’t talk, she looked like she had been scrubbed out of his life. It was impossible to believe that they had been friends all throughout school. Their friendship had been erased at one point.

“You and Harry started fighting all the time after you and Ron broke up. And- well you officially stopped talking when he didn’t show up at your wedding.”

“How could it have gotten that bad?” she asked.

“He just-” Ginny paused and took a deep breath. “Hermione, I love my husband, so much. The only thing I love more than him is my son. These past few years have been so hard trying not to abandon either one of you while you fought. Harry, well you know Harry-”

She waited as Ginny took a long sip of her tea.

“He has so much passion in him. During the war, Harry held onto that hope of what his future was going to be. Him and me together, you and Ron at our sides. But when you left Ron, it destroyed that dream. He couldn’t move past it.”

“That doesn’t excuse anything,” Hermione mumbled as she ignored the dull sensation that was beginning to throb around the base of her skull.

The tapping of Ginny's foot echoed throughout the room.

“I’m not trying to excuse it. I’m trying to explain it. Look at it from his perspective. You break up with the person he believed was your soulmate. Then you, almost immediately, get together with Malfoy. The person he considered his enemy for years.”

Hermione gasped, “Wait- I didn’t wait before I dated Malfoy?” 

“No. It might have been a week after you ended things with Ron.” Ginny looked up as she did the mental maths. “It was actually a big point of contention between you and Harry. He thought that since you moved on so fast that you must have cheated on Ron.”

“I wouldn’t-” She paused. She was going to say that she wouldn’t cheat on someone, but that didn’t seem to be an accurate statement any longer.

“You never told me if you did,” Ginny shrugged, “It’s not that weird for someone to date a coworker, and you two were super close before you and Ron broke up.”

Hermione thought it was fairly unusual to end up married to a school bully, but she kept her comments to herself and let Ginny speak.

“You wanted everyone to just be friends. You tried so hard, you’d bring Malfoy to dinner, and then inevitably Harry or Malfoy would say something to piss the other off. Then the evening would be ruined.”

Hermione took a sip of tea with shaking hands.

“Harry was his most cruel to Malfoy when Ron was near. He'd spend the evening making fun of Malfoy to make Ron feel better. He thought you were bragging about your happiness when Ron was so obviously miserable.”

“I’m sure I was just trying to get everyone to know each other better,” Hermione said with a sigh. She could understand her logic. If she was able to get over their history and love Malfoy, she probably would have assumed that her friends could as well.

“I know that’s what you’re trying to do, but sometimes what we try to do, and what ends up happening aren’t the same thing.”

Hermione’s mouth opened to ask all of the questions that she didn’t know how to vocalize. She shut it as she decided it was more efficient to chew her lip instead. 

At that point, Ginny stood. “I’ll give you a chance to think this over. Malfoy sent over some bags with some clothes and a bunch of other things you may want.”

“One last thing,” She said pausing at the doorway, “I know this is hard on you. I can’t actually imagine what you must be feeling. I know that Ron is trying to convince you to look at this as a way to start over. While I disagree with his methods, I agree with the sentiment. This can be an opportunity to start over. Let us all be a family again. I’m not talking about who you choose to be married to, I’m just asking that you don’t leave us.

Hermione stared at the hands clenched in her lap for many minutes after Ginny left.

When she was alone, she decided to investigate the suitcase and sports bag waiting in the corner for her. She opened the suitcase first and sorted through the wide assortment of clothes. Malfoy packed trousers, shirts, socks, even bras and knickers for her to wear.

He seemed to have thought of everything. 

He also seemed to think she’d be away from him for a while due to the sheer amount of clothes he packed her. 

Her heart dropped to the ground when she unzipped her sports bag. There were books, all of her favorites. Muggle classics and a couple of magical books that she didn’t recognize were in there as well. A small notebook filled with notes in her handwriting.

There was also a small cell phone in the bag.

She lunged for it.

It was similar to the one that Malfoy had shown her at St. Mungos. The screen remained blank until she tapped it with her wand in a similar manner that she had seen earlier. Even though it felt like an invasion of privacy, (was it possible to snoop on yourself?), she opened her phone to the recent messages.

There were plenty of texts expressing concern and get-well-soon messages from random people that she ignored. She looked at the last few messages sent between her and Malfoy. It only took a few moments for her to confirm what Malfoy had told her. The man had absolutely no understanding of technology. 

* * *

**Had to leave early, talk to you tonight.**

**Don’t worry I ate breakfast.**

**~**

**You’re supposed to type words Draco**

**not symbols.**

**?**

* * *

**I’m bringing home Italian tonight.**

**thank**

**you**

**hungry !!**

* * *

**Don’t wait up, staying late to work on a proposal.**

**no :**

**(**

**Draco, that's not how you do a sad face.**

**I’ll show you how when I get home.**

* * *

**Be home in 15, wearing that new bra ;)**

**whats**

**;)**

**It means play your cards right and**

**you may get to take the bra off of me**

**nice**

* * *

**i love you**

**I love you too! See you soon.**

**love**

**you So muchhh**

* * *

On and on the messages continued in a similar fashion. Hermione was transfixed by them until her vision began to blur with tears. 

It seemed the only message he knew how to send with some skill was devotions of his love for her. He said it often, mostly unprompted. As if the thought occurred to him during the day and he knew he needed to let her know. 

When a tear landed on the screen, she curled into a ball. She decided that it was more productive to stare at nothing and feel sorry for herself. 

She didn’t know what she was feeling for Malfoy. He was probably feeling miserable right now, assuming the worst about his wife. The part that made Hermione’s throat constrict and her stomach clench was the fact that his fears probably weren’t far off.

She made a grab for her phone and typed out a message to him. She hit send before she could convince herself it was a poor idea. 

**I’m so sorry. You don’t deserve any of this.**

She heard her phone buzz with a response. Instead of looking at it, she curled back into herself and cried herself to sleep. 

Her dreams were extremely vivid that night. 

_She was stuck in a broken-down car. She desperately waved for all the cars that were racing next to her to slow down. Her screams for help were ignored._

_Suddenly, Ron was at her side with a toolbox._

_He quickly fixed up her car without even breaking a sweat. He was a genius with all of his tools. Eventually, he got her car roaring back to life._

_He leaned down to give her a kiss before he floated off into space._

_As soon as he was gone the car broke down again._

It was fairly easy for Hermione to realize she was dreaming as she did not know how to drive, and even if she did, she was positive that Ron had absolutely zero experience fixing cars. 

Her next dream was harder to discern from the truth. It felt so real, and simultaneously so fake. There were dark spots in her vision, and everything was slightly out of focus. It felt like she was a radio tuned to the wrong frequency. 

_She was standing, somewhere. She thought she may have been outside, but she wasn’t sure._

_“I don’t know how you expect me to react to that,” A voice said. It was familiar but distant. She couldn’t figure out who it was._

_“I expect you to be on my side. I expect you to trust me,” Hermione felt herself saying._

_Was she talking to Malfoy? Ron?_

_"I do trust you… keeps doing things….” His voice was cutting in and out. She tried to look up at him but couldn’t make out his face._

_"...Needs... I have to try.” The memory was so vague even Hermione was having trouble understanding what was coming out of her mouth._

_“Does it not matter what I need?” the male voice said._

_“Not right now. No.”_

_“Fine! Then go.”_

_"I will.” Hermione stomped off before she suddenly was in the man’s face. “You have no right to tell me what to do.”_

_"Stop trying to make me feel horrible when ...how I feel.”_

_"If you trust... why would you be uncomfortable?” Hermione felt her mouth open to argue with him._

_The face she was staring at was still fuzzy even as she took a step even closer to him._

_“Don’t start that with me.”_

_She was looking up at a face as her body was almost flush with his. She could make out red cheeks and intense colorless eyes as the man stared down at her._

_“I’m just so tired of you always-”_

_"You’re just so fucking-”_

_They both stopped when they realized they had interrupted each other. There was a momentary pause, a heartbeat before they both crashed into each other. Their kiss was all spit and wandering hands._

* * *

The next morning, she woke in the same position she had fallen asleep in. She looked at the response that Malfoy had sent her.

**okay take yo**

**ur time**

**call if you need me**

She couldn’t think of anything to say that would provide either one of them comfort so she didn’t respond.

She flipped through some of her other messages. One that caught her attention was from Theo. She wasn’t sure she knew a Theo. 

**Granger, I will physically drag you from that house**

**if I need to.**

**At least talk to the guy.**

**But obviously ‘take all the time you need’**

**and all that rubbish.**

She put her phone down and didn’t look at it again. All of her energy was devoted to gaining the courage to finally leave the room that she had isolated herself in.

It was exhausting always feeling miserable for herself, but she couldn’t force herself to take the steps to leave.

Ron was outside her door, and she wasn’t ready for that yet.

So, she stayed in her bed. 

Ginny came multiple times in to bring her food. The next day went about the same. She read. She ate. She slept. 

She didn’t talk to anyone other than Ginny. 

It took her two entire days of nothing before she could convince herself to finally do something productive. A sudden burst of courage finally allowed her the chance to leave the constricting room.

With only a few glances around her to make sure the coast was clear, she claimed a spot at the Potter’s kitchen table.

It was freeing, not being confined by the four walls of what had previously been her prison. She took out one of the magical books she didn’t recognize and started reading. She knew she only had a limited amount of time that she was allowed to stare at the tiny font, and she wanted to make the most out of it.

At some point, Harry had walked into the kitchen. He stared at her while he folded James’s clothes. Her eyes narrowed on the wand that was lying on the table, unused.

A laundry folding charm was taught in first year.

“Need something?” she asked.

“Oh, no I don’t,” Harry said as he ran off to the back of the house. 

10 minutes later he returned, this time deciding he had to wash his dishes the Muggle way. Every couple of seconds he turned around to stare at Hermione.

“Something you’d like to say?” Hermione said, raising an eyebrow.

“Nope,” he said, popping the p. He pulled out his wand to finish cleaning the rest of the dishes. 

The third time she caught him staring, he was more blatant about it. He sat in the chair opposite her and watched her read. 

“So, what are you doing?” he asked.

“Reading,” she said with a glance up at him. 

He opened his mouth then quickly snapped it shut. 

She shook her head at him, “Don’t worry, I won’t ask you to tell me. I’m waiting for Ron to do it.” 

Harry continued to stare at her. 

“Now,” Hermione put down her book. “Would you like to explain exactly why you won’t stop staring at me like I’m about to murder your family pet?”

“Hermione, I’m sorry.” 

She blinked. 

“Excuse me?” she was shocked as she watched the contrite expression contorting his face. She wasn’t used to Harry apologizing to her. “What for?”

“I haven’t treated you right since you and Ron broke up. I think it took me seeing you and realizing what I was missing by being angry with you to finally see how much of an arse I was.”

She could count on one hand the number of times that Harry had genuinely apologized to her. 

“I don’t even remember you being rude. Of course, I forgive you,” Hermione said immediately. He smiled at her as he walked around the table so he could bend down to hug her. She cautiously accepted his hug. 

“Good.” He smiled at her. The joy brightening his features. “Because it can all go back to the way it’s supposed to be. You’ll forgive Ron and then we can all go back to being happy again.” 

“Wait Harry I didn’t say-”

He spoke over her as he refused to let her finish. 

“It’s okay, you’ll probably need to take some time to figure everything out, but then you can come stay with us until you and Ron find a place.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Well, I just imagined that you wouldn’t want to immediately move in together. Do you just want to go straight to living together? Because that’s okay.” His smile was wide as he looked at her. The excitement shined through his eyes. 

“I haven’t said that Ron and I are going to get back together.” 

“What?”

“What are you confused about?” Hermione asked

“I’m confused about the fact that you kissed him. Why would you do that if you weren’t still interested in him?” Harry’s face was in complete utter disbelief.

“I don’t know what that was, but I mean- I have a husband to think about.”

“Oh Malfoy,” he sneered. Hermione’s eyes widened as his voice suddenly became vicious, “It all comes back to him doesn’t it?”

“He’s my husband!” She gripped the table in front of her until her knuckles turned white. It was a battle to fight her sudden urge to defend Malfoy. 

“What are you doing Mione? You don’t even like him. Yet you seem determined to damn yourself in order to defend him.” His voice had lost all of its poison as if the gentle way he spoke was designed to appease her.

It was like he was talking to a foolish child.

It was patronizing.

“That’s not fair-”

“Ah-hem,” Ron cleared his throat as he walked into the room, “Am I interrupting something?”

Harry and Hermione spoke at the same time.

“Yes.” He wasn’t looking at Ron as all of his energy was focused on his glare at Hermione.

“No.” She shook her head.

“I was wondering if I could talk to you.” Ron was looking at her with wide eyes.

“I don’t know if now the best time is.” Harry’s voice had taken on a severe edge to it as he shook his head quickly at Ron.

“I don’t think it’s going to get any better with time,” Ron shrugged as he stared at his shoes.

“I want to hear it.” Hermione pushed herself away from the table, “Let’s talk.”

Harry was left behind with a sigh as they walked outside together. Their shoulders almost touched. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos make my day :)
> 
> New Updates (hopefully) Every Week  
> [Follow me on Tumblr!](https://forgotten-traveler.tumblr.com/)


	6. Truth

Hermione played with the hem of her top as she listened half-heartedly to Ron's babbling. They had walked to the Potter's backyard; a beautiful patio that she assumed had used magic to make it seem larger. Ron seemed to have made it his mission to explain every single part of the yard. 

"James loves picking the flowers here. Ginny hates it. Sometimes, get this, sometimes we'll come out here and James will just pick all of the flowers! He says if he gives it to his mum as a present she has to forgive him," he laughed. 

"Wow," she mumbled. 

He refused to look at her as he continued speaking. His nervous energy radiated between the two of them. She let him talk even though he had been doing this for 20 minutes. Her biggest priority at that moment was quieting her aggressive heartbeat. Once that was done, she'd finally demand her answers. 

"And, oh, James always falls down and skins his knee right here." He motioned to the cobblestone path that wound itself around a hedge. "I always remind him how important it is not to run here, but he never listens. He's a bit like his Dad in that sense." 

His gaze was focused on her nose as he gave a weak laugh.

"Yeah."

Each step taken around the small garden was tense as if they were both walking towards their execution. There had to be a limit to the number of useless facts he gave her, but he just kept finding more. 

"Ginny loves working in the garden here. I think she likes the quiet. It can get a bit much in the house sometimes." 

"I can imagine." Her vision narrowed on the small bench in the corner of the garden. "Want to sit down?"

His steps stuttered. She reached out to put a hand on his shoulder. He flinched away from her. 

"Ron it's time. You need to talk to me."

It took him several moments of shuffling his feet before he nodded and sat down. 

The air breeze floated across her face as she waited for him to finish staring at the sky. His mouth was opened in silent prayer as he searched for something to loosen the noose he had tightened around his own neck. It looked like he'd prefer a lightning strike to what he was about to do. 

Unfortunately for Ron, it was a cloudless day. It seemed rather unlikely any rogue thunderstorms would suddenly appear.

Finally, he took a deep breath and searched her face for something.

"When I tell you this, you have to promise..." he trailed off. 

"Promise what?" Her hands were clenched in her lap as a river of anticipation and dread traveled all throughout her body. 

Her internal monologue seemed to be stuck on repeat as she tried to assure herself that it couldn't be as bad as her imagination had made it out to be.

"Promise to forgive me," he sighed.

Oh. 

This was not where she thought the conversation was going to go at all. She had assumed she'd be the one begging for forgiveness. 

"You know I can't promise anything without all the information," she hesitated, "But I promise I'll try to." 

He met her eyes. 

"I don't know where to start."

"How about the beginning?" The smile she gave him was closer to a grimace as all of her mental focus had been diverted to focusing on breathing in and out at regular intervals. 

"Okay." 

He took a shaking breath. 

More silence. 

She reached out to take his hands. His eyes fixated on her fingers as his thumb traced hers. Then, after she squeezed, he finally began. 

"Hermione I- okay," a deep breath passed, "You have to understand. After the war, I just couldn't do it. I didn't realize how much I counted on Fred and George. They had always been there. For me. To make me laugh. And George, well you should remember that, it felt like I'd lost two brothers at once." 

She nodded. George's spiral after he lost his twin was one of the hardest things to watch in post-war life. What had been such a lively-spirited boy had turned into a sullen and bitter man. She didn't know if the years had brought back some of his youthful energy, but she refused to interrupt to ask. 

"Well- just- please- it was hard. So hard after the war. I felt like nothing I did mattered. I couldn't save Fred. I didn't know how to help George and-"

He took a shuddering breath, "No one even cared about me. I was barely noted in all the books and articles written. It was all about Harry, or you, or even Neville. I was just the sidekick that was sometimes mentioned in passing. It was like my sacrifices paled in comparison to yours." 

She remembered the media attention that had surrounded them after the war. Interview requests, biographers, photographers, they were all common. She had noticed that there had been more media attention on her and Harry, but that was something that she had envied about Ron. She wasn't sure how different things were in the present, but she couldn't remember the last time she'd gone somewhere without someone begging for an autograph. 

"I was forgotten. By everyone. Mum had Dad, Bill had Fleur, Charlie had his work, Percy had Audrey, George had everyone, Harry had Ginny, and I-"

"You had me," she finished for him, "I wouldn't have abandoned you. I know that." 

He gave a bitter laugh as he ripped his hand from her grasp. 

"You had your work. You were obsessed with your new job at the ministry. Making advancements and changing lives. Spending all your time with Malfoy and that friend of his. Just a bunch of rubbish." 

She could feel her tongue bleed as she stopped herself from challenging him. 

"What does Malfoy have to do with this?" she said. 

Suddenly, all his dread and trepidation had washed away. He looked like he was boiling when he spoke again. 

"He was always there! Always talking to you. Always flirting with you. He wouldn't leave you alone no matter-"

His shaking fingers gripped the bench until his knuckles turned white. Each exhalation from him twisted her stomach even further. Each word seemed forced when he spoke again. 

"I asked you to stop talking to him and well-"

"Tell me I didn't choose _him_ over _you_." Her hysterical interruption caused him to look up at her again. 

"Not at that point you didn't." 

Her patience was beginning to run thin.

"Just tell me," she said, trying to keep her voice as gentle as possible. 

"I wasn't- I didn't mean-"

He paused. 

"5 years ago, we all went to this big war memorial party. You and Harry were being photographed together. They didn't even wait for me before they took the picture. I was at the bar, drinking. I had a lot to drink. You were dragged from interview to interview. Harry and Ginny were in their own world."

He was silent for what felt like an eternity before he continued. 

"And I swear, I didn't approach her first-"

No. 

He didn't.

He wouldn't.

"She came up to me, asked if I was _the_ Ron Weasley', just like that. No one had ever said it like that. I'm not excusing what I did. I shouldn't have- but she made me feel special. I just wanted to feel-"

"You didn't."

"We slept together. Just once," he added as if that made his betrayal sting less. 

He started speaking quickly, the words tumbled out of his mouth. "I was so lonely, you weren't- I felt like you weren't there for me. No one was."

"My whole life I was forgotten. The youngest brother. The chosen one's best friend. The smartest witch's boyfriend. I was always someone's someone, never my own person. I just wanted to feel like a someone."

He had begun crying. Big fat tears. She looked away, his grief and her sudden burst of anger mixed together as well as oil and water. 

"Who?" she asked through clenched teeth.

"Who?" he repeated looking surprised by her question. 

"Who did you decide to throw our relationship away with?"

"I didn't ask her name." His cheeks had turned bright red. 

Good. 

She hoped his shame burned him. 

"I can't decide if that makes it worse or better." Her voice had become detached from her body. 

"You were off in your own world with Malfoy, you hardly cared when I told you. It's just worse now because you don't remember everything." 

"Are you saying I was happy my boyfriend cheated on me?" Her glare had turned icy. 

"No, I didn't mean it like that. You just- You and him were so close. I was half convinced you were planning on leaving me for him. Or that you'd already cheated." 

"So what? You just decided to get a jump start on it? End our relationship for us?" she snapped. 

"No that's not what I was trying to..." he kept speaking his excuses, but she didn't want to keep listening. Her thoughts were suffocating and his words felt like poison. 

A pause, before she realized. 

"You didn't tell me this." 

"No, I told you immediately after I did it. I couldn't handle the guilt." 

"I don't mean years ago, Ron Weasley," she seethed. "You let me kiss you without telling me the whole story. Were you hoping I'd never ask?"

"No, I was always planning on telling you," he cried as he reached to touch her. She recoiled out of his betraying hands. "I just needed time... I wanted to remember what it was like to be with you." 

"You told me it was my fault. You made it seem like I left you. You- You took advantage of me." Her mouth tasted like venom. She wanted to spit it in his eyes and watch him burn from the pain.

"I didn't mean to. I just wanted to show you that we belonged together. And we do, belong together, that is." A sob rushed through him. 

She wanted his tears to choke him. 

It was with a sadistic joy that she watched his shirt become damp from the tears that fell from his face. It was a strange feeling; wanting someone that used to love so much to hurt. 

She wanted to hate him. 

She wanted him to suffer. 

She wanted to go home. 

If only she knew where that was. 

She pushed herself off of the bench so she couldn't hear the sounds of his soft sobs. Her hand raised so she could pinch the bridge of her nose. 

"I am sorry you felt alone. I am sorry that you saw no other alternative. I am sorry you thought I didn't see you as a person. But I'm so mad at you right now-"

She looked up at the sky desperate for something she couldn't even articulate.

"I cheated on my husband with you. You made me no better than you are." 

"Hermione, I didn't mean to-"

"Save it."

His flinch caused a joyous pain to travel through her body. She took a breath so deep her lungs burned. When she spoke again her voice shook, either from anger or the tears she was suppressing she didn't know. 

"I promised I'll try to forgive you, and I intend to keep that promise. But right now, if I have to look at you for one moment longer I will-" Her fingers craved her wand, she wanted to hex him. To punish him. Her rage was so desperate to boil over. If it erupted, it would burn herself and anyone within her radius. 

"Just go," she said.

In the time it took for her to force herself to stop digging her fingernails into her palms and drop her tense shoulders, he was gone. 

Her spine drooped as the sobs threatened to wreck her body. She didn't want to believe it. It felt like yesterday she was talking about moving in with him and then, this. Her Ron, her sweet loyal, always there for you, Ron cheated on her with a girl he didn't even know the name of. 

Her chest ached almost as badly as the throbbing in her head. The sun had long set by the time she convinced her numb mind that she was ready to walk back inside. 

Ginny and Harry were waiting for her.

"Are you-" Harry began before he stopped and at least had the decency to look contrite, "I'm sorry." 

"I- uh- I want to leave." She looked at Ginny for help. 

Ginny motioned in the corner with a frown, "I already packed your things."

Harry, however, looked frantic. 

"No. You can't leave. You need to go find Ron." 

"Excuse me?" Hermione asked.

His eyes darted between her and his wife. 

"You need to go figure things out with him. You can't just leave him alone and upset like this."

"Harry," Ginny cautioned as she placed a hand on his arm. 

"What are you trying to tell me?" Hermione actually had a good idea of what he was saying. She just couldn't believe it. 

"You need to get over this. He needs your help." His eyes were panicking.

All of the hurt and suffering she had wished on Ron before was now directed at the man standing in front of her. 

"How dare you? Did you think I'd just forgive and forget what he did? That I'll immediately decide to get over it without any time to process?"

She wanted to strangle him. To reach out and wrap her fingers around his neck. She wanted to squeeze until he'd realize that he was wrong.

"Do you really think I'm that heartless?" Hermione's voice was barely above a whisper.

"He needs help," he said. 

Her anger erupted. 

"I'm the one that needs help! I'm the one that just got out of the hospital. I have memory loss, a cheating ex, and a husband I don't know. I don't see how you could possibly think I'd just be okay with all of this." 

Ginny was watching them with wide eyes as Harry stood from the sofa and walked towards her. Each step felt deadly. 

"He's my best friend. I have to help him." 

"When did I stop being your best friend? When did you'd decide to choose him over me?" She felt desperate for him to listen to her. For him to understand.

"I didn't choose anyone, it was you that chose." His volume had steadily begun to rise. 

Ginny moved so she could stand in between them. 

"Harry, Hermione, wait-"

"When have you ever not chosen him over me?" Hermione tried to hold back her screams. "I don't even know why I'm surprised. You have always chosen Ron over me. Every single time a choice had to be made. I knew. I knew you weren't picking me." 

She couldn't decide which urge was stronger, the desire to pull her hair out or to shove him against a wall and knock his head into the wall. 

"That's not fair and you know it," he said. 

"How is it not fair? It's always been you and Ron. Occasionally, you'd include me when you found space to include your walking encyclopedia."

"Please, let's all just calm down." Ginny's pleas were ignored. 

"Oh please," he sneered, "You're just being dramatic." 

"I'm being dramatic? You're kidding right? How about I explain all the ways you chose him. First-year I was just the know-it-all you could make fun of. It took a fucking troll to get you to even want to be my friend. Third-year, Ron and I fight over Crookshanks and you take his side without proof!" 

Her words had become her only weapon and she wanted to wield them with deadly accuracy. 

"Fourth-year, your dearest thing in the Triwizard Tournament was Ron. Not me! Because of course, it couldn't be me. He spent the entire year acting horribly to you and you _still_ chose him. Who cares how I felt about it right? Want me to keep going?" she asked with a raised eyebrow. 

He was silent. His glare was blocked by the wall that Hermione had built between them. Ginny's eyes flashed between the two of them. 

"You will always choose him over me. I've always known that. I just didn't think you'd try to sabotage me in order to uplift him." She finally broke her gaze from Harry's dangerous eyes so she could look at Ginny. "I need to get out of here." 

"Please don't go yet," she looked close to tears. "We can talk this out." 

"I don't want anything to do with him right now. I want to leave." 

Harry scoffed, his voice full of sarcasm and sin. 

"Of course, that's what you do best. Leave us and go to Malfoy. I guess memory loss can't change everything."

"Harry, don't say that," Ginny scolded.

"No, let him," Hermione said, "Let him go on and on about how horrible I am. I'd love more reasons to want to leave."

"Ron is broken!" Harry screamed, "You broke him and you can't even pretend to want to fix him."

"Harry!" Ginny's protests were barely heard over Harry.

"You broke him years ago, and here you are, breaking him again. Every bit of progress over the past few years, gone. You kissed him and now you can't even-"

"Why don't I get to be broken?" she interrupted. "Why don't I get to be upset? What do you actually want from me? Pretend to be okay with what he did as long as it preserves your best friend's happiness? Will that finally make you okay with me? Do you honestly think that my pretending to love him is what's best for everyone?"

"It'd certainly be better than spreading your legs for a fucking death eater." 

"Then let me leave! Let me go fuck the enemy! Why cares anymore? You lost your right to tell me what to do."

Her tears had begun falling, and she desperately tried to control them. 

"Leave then. Go abandon us. God forbid you actually confront things when it gets tough. As soon as things get hard you leave. That's what you did with Ron. With me. That's even what you did during the war with your parents. That's-"

A whimper escaped Hermione's mouth as each word felt like a knife in her gut.

"Enough!" Ginny's scream quieted both of them. "I'm so tired of all of this fighting all the time. Harry, let her leave. Hermione, he's upset. He's saying things he doesn't mean." 

"I'm going to find Ron," he said as he apparated away without a second glance at Hermione. 

"I'm sorry," Hermione said as she turned towards her friend who seemed to be holding back her tears. 

Ginny shook her head.

"I had a feeling it was going to end up like this. I just hoped- Well nevermind." She made a noise that sounded like a mix between a laugh and a sob. 

"I think I should leave," she said as she ignored the voice in her head telling her that she should stay where she was. 

"Where will you go?" Ginny asked, her voice thick with tears. 

"I think I have some explaining to do with Malfoy." She looked over at Ginny for help. "I just don't know how to get there." 

She felt like she was going to burst into tears again as Ginny gave her the address along with a bowl of floor powder. 

"I'll try to visit soon." 

Hermione didn't respond as she disappeared with a green flash. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos make my day :)  
> [Follow me on Tumblr!](https://forgotten-traveler.tumblr.com/)


	7. Home

Her bags echoed as they dropped to the ground. Her heart sank as she walked through the fireplace. For a moment she was convinced she was in the wrong place as she walked into the most un-Malfoy room as possible. It wasn't until she saw Crookshanks curled in a ball on the sofa that she had been holding. 

Her eyes landed on Malfoy, who sat in front of her, his slack jaw hung open. 

"Hermione?" It took him a second to shake himself and stand to greet her.

A man she didn't recognize was lounging on an armchair off to the side of the room a glass of amber liquid in his hand. 

"Looks like our favorite Gryffindor has finally stopped running away." The man leaned forward so he could get a better look at her. "Oh fuck. You look like hell."

She was sure that she looked a dangerous combination of exhausted, livid, and distraught. She was aware of that, but it wasn't necessarily something she wanted to be pointed out to her. Especially not after the sort of day that she had. 

Malfoy's gaze was only on her face. 

"What's wrong?" he asked as he took a step towards her. His hand reached forward, but he let it drop halfway so it could hang at his side. 

Her head rushed back and forth as she shook her head. "I don't want to talk about it." 

"My money's on something with Potter. He was probably being a dick." The man stood closer to her. A smirk painted his face.

"I'm sorry, who the hell are you?" she asked. 

His expression faltered; a second passed as he exchanged a glance with Malfoy before he turned back towards her with a glint in his eye. 

"Hermione," he tutted, "I'm surprised you don't recognize me. How could you forget our great love affair? I thought three days of nothing but raw sexual energy would-"

"Leave her alone Theo," Malfoy said. 'Theo' rolled his eyes. 

"Fine. I'm Theodore Nott," he said extending his hand. "I am actually a little offended that you don't recognize me. We did go to school together after all." 

Her eyes flickered from his hand and then back towards his unfamiliar face. His eyebrows raised as his hand lowered back to his side. 

"Wow. 90s Hermione is even bitchier than when we first met." 

"Theo, leave." Malfoy pushed him towards the floo. 

"Okay, okay. Try not to be too weird around each other." He waved his fingers at Hermione before he left. 

Then, it was just the two of them staring at each other with wide uncertain eyes. 

"Him and I- We didn't- you know- right?" she asked.

Sleeping with one Slytherin was bad enough, if she slept with two she wasn't sure her pride would survive the beating. 

"I haven't heard about it if you have. I highly doubt he'd blurt something like that out on a Thursday evening." He shook his head, obviously not enjoying the mental image. "Besides, I'm closer to his type than you are. He's gay. And a bit of a dick, obviously, but uh- he's a good friend."

"Oh, thank Merlin." 

The wry smile he gave her in response to her sigh faded when he looked at her closer. He took a half step towards her. 

"Are you okay?" he asked. 

"No, I'm not." 

He nodded and waited for her to elaborate. When he was met with silence, he spoke again. 

"Well, if you don't want to talk about it," he hesitated, "I guess you can go ahead and take a look around. It is half yours after all." 

Her feet stayed planted to the ground as her eyes traveled all around the room. She had to admit how impressed she was with the decorations. In fact, if someone had told her to decorate a room with everything she wanted, this would have been a close approximation of what she would have chosen. 

In the center of the room sat a tanned sofa with green and brown throw pillows scattered haphazardly. A red and gold blanket was draped over the back of the couch. 

She was surprised at how alive the room felt. Literally. Life was poured into every aspect of the room through the sheer number of muggle and magical plants that hung from the ceiling, sat atop end tables, and stood tall in the room. 

"We both decorated the place. We decided on neutral colors, although you fought hard for your red and gold decorations," he smiled to himself, lost in something she wasn't apart of. "Theo says it looks like a Hufflepuff threw up in here. But we like it. It's simple, like us. Plus all the plants are good for potions." 

If there was any doubt that this had been her home at any point, it was thoroughly eliminated when she looked at the books scattered around the room. They were everywhere. On bookshelves. The coffee table. Even in small stacks under the sofa. 

His gaze followed hers. "Oh yeah, well you know you and your books." He gave a short laugh as his fists clenched. "You always keep the books out here even though I always tell you to put them up." 

She clasped her hands in front of her as she stared at what appeared to be a television that sat opposite the sofa. 

His eyes were still on her face. "That's actually a pure muggle television. You've invented a magical one, but you say they don't have good channels on it."

She tried to control her breathing as she stared at all of the memories that surrounded her. They were everywhere, from the portraits and pictures moving on the walls, to the books visible in every part of the room. 

"I- We sold the manor," Malfoy answered her unasked question, "to the ministry actually. They donated it to the Muggle Prime Minister. Apparently, they wanted a new tourist trap and Shakelbolt wanted more sway with the Muggle government. I think they said it's some old princess's manor." 

"But why did you sell it?" When she finally spoke her voice sounded distant and hoarse even to herself. His unfocused eyes snapped back to her. 

"Too many bad memories. For both of us." 

"Oh."

"Besides, I can't think of a bigger fuck you than for the heir of the Malfoy and Black family selling his home for the bare minimum to be given to Muggles. We both liked the irony." 

The smile on her face was as strong as she was capable of given her fragile state. 

"We sold most of the furniture from the manor, none of it was our style," he continued, "And we've been here- well I guess it'll be 5 years in June." 

She didn't know him well enough to determine if his incessant talking was due to nerves or a desire to explain their past to her, but his smile was wider than she had ever seen it. 

The look on his face was what finally broke her. It was so hopeful. His eyes were glowing with a bright light as he shuffled from foot to foot. 

It was a tower of feelings. His blind optimism added a layer, her fight with Harry another, Ron's betrayal was a large portion of it, and everything that she couldn't remember built up on top of it. It was too much stacked onto each other.

Then it crashed. 

His monologuing faded when he seemed to notice her silently crying in the middle of their living room. His feet moved in a flash as he stood in front of her. His face was desperate as he searched for the cause of her turmoil.

"Did I say something wrong? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

"No, I'm sorry," she said as if an apology was good enough. He hardly waited for her to finish speaking before he had begun shaking his head.

"You have nothing to apologize for." 

"Oh, if only that were true!" She gave a bitter laugh as the tears began to fall even harder. 

"I'm so sorry. I didn't... I shouldn't... I'm so sorry," she cried even harder as she tried to find the words. Her arms wrapped around her waist as she tried to calm herself down. 

As if hit by a hex, his whole body froze to the spot. The only indications that he wasn't a statue were his narrowed eyes and careful breathing. 

"What are you talking about?" Malfoy asked, his tone became distressed. 

"I'm so sorry." 

"You said that already. Can you explain to me why exactly you're so sorry?"

"Ron and I kissed." His eyes widened before he scrubbed all the emotion from his face. The only thing that stared back at her was a pair of blank eyes. 

He was silent. 

"I guess, I kissed him. That's more accurate I suppose." 

He gave a simple "Oh", but otherwise remained quiet. Her eyes searched the face for more information on how he was feeling, but his face was void of all expression. 

"It- I shouldn't have done it. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." 

He continued staring at her, his shoulders were tensed as he stood rigid. 

"I'm so sorry," she repeated again. The words were beginning to lose meaning. 

"I am aware that is what you are feeling." His clipped voice came to her through clenched teeth. "Please give me a moment to determine exactly what my thoughts are on the matter." 

Each second he stayed silent felt like an additional weight added onto her tower of guilt. Soon, she felt like Atlas. The entire world felt like it rested upon her tiny shoulders. 

His eyes had squeezed shut and he began taking deep breaths are consistently regular intervals. 

"Did you do more than... kiss?" he finally asked. 

"No," she responded immediately. The small breath he released only partially eliminated some tension. "It was before- before he told me- everything. I still shouldn't have done it. But-"

He held up his hand to quiet her. A longer breath passed. 

"Okay," he said. 

"Okay?"

"Okay. I am choosing to forgive you for this." 

"Just like that?" 

He was supposed to fight with her. Tell her what a whore she was. Throw her out the door. Make her grovel for forgiveness. Something.

Instead, he continued staring blankly at the floor. 

"Would you prefer I stay angry at you?" he said, and when Hermione shook her head quickly, he smiled mirthlessly. 

"I won't lie and say I enjoy hearing this information about my wife, but I'm trying to look at it from your perspective. I understand it didn't mean what it would have meant before you were injured." 

He still refused to look at her. 

"So you don't want to talk about it or anything?"

"Not at the moment. I may in the future, but uh- no I don't really want to hear any more about it right now." His slow careful breathing had begun to falter. Each breath suddenly became more effortful and uneven.

"Okay," Hermione said, her voice small.

"Just- I am choosing to forgive you for this. That doesn't mean that I have already forgiven you." 

He finally looked up and met her eyes. His face still didn't give any more information as he stared back at her with an unfathomable look. 

She nodded. That made her feel a little better. She probably deserved someone to stay mad at her for all of the horrible decisions she's made. 

"Well, as fun as this whole exchange has been," a bitter laugh escaped him, "you look exhausted, and for some reason, I suddenly feel the need to drink copious amounts of alcohol. I'm going to Theo's for the night. I'll be back in the morning." 

"Malfoy-" A grimace came from an already beaten down man. "I'm-"

"Sorry. Yes I know, you've said that once or twice tonight," he muttered sarcastically, then paused, "Well, our room is the last door on the left. You can't miss it." 

"You don't have to leave, I'll go somewhere else for the night." She began to sniff back tears again. 

She had stretched him too tautly, and he finally snapped.

"Fuck Hermione! Where would you go? Back to your ex-boyfriend's place? Not too thrilled about that idea. Or do you have any other ex's you think are due for a good snog? I think Viktor Krum's traveled back to Britain recently. Want to stay at his place?" he sneered. His biting tone stung her. 

Her eyes widened. Another deep breath. From both of them this time. 

"I'm sorry. I guess I'm a bit angrier than I thought." His voice came out slowly. 

"Of course, you should be mad at me. I really messed up. You don't have to forgive me," she whimpered. Each word became less and less intelligible as her cries reignited. 

"Of for all the fucking-" Malfoy groaned. His fingers pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's going to be okay. I just need some space." 

More breaths passed. 

"This is not the first time we've fought. I'm pretty sure it won't be the last. Normally you're less guilt-ridden when we fight, but obviously, things aren't exactly typical right now." 

She nodded at him. 

"I just need some time to remind myself how much I love you, and then I'll get over it. Okay?" he said. 

She opened her mouth to respond. 

"If you are about to apologize again..." Malfoy started before he paused and tried to calm himself down. "I understand you're sorry. Thank you for the apology. You do not have to keep saying." 

He moved away from her and towards the fireplace. 

"Now, before I leave, do you need anything from me?" he asked. She shook her head. "If you need me you can call me or floo to Nott Manor. I would appreciate some space tonight, but find me immediately if it's an emergency. I'll be back tomorrow." 

With one last indecipherable look, he left. 

She stood, alone, in a room she couldn't remember decorating. All of her strength was dedicated to the task of forcing herself to just remember. If she could dig through her mind and find where the memories lay trapped, she wouldn't have to shuffle through all of her feelings. 

When no memories came, she went into the bedroom. She barely made it to her bed before her sobbing started. 

She was tired of always crying. 

* * *

That night, she dreamt of Ron. 

_"You won't believe this," Hermione called out as she grabbed beers from Harry's fridge. "Guess who I'm assigned to work with for this next project?"_

_She reached for the bottle opener that Harry kept on his counter as she returned to the living room. Harry, Ginny, and Ron all said their thanks as she handed them their drinks and sat next to her boyfriend._

_"Who?" Ron asked as he pulled her legs onto his lap._

_"Draco Malfoy."  
_

_"You can't be serious," Harry laughed. "You're stuck working with him? I can't believe they even let him hold a job."_

_She frowned. "Well, I mean we both defended him at his trial. He didn't really have a choice with everything."_

_Ginny spoke up, "Yeah, that doesn't mean I want him to have a say in our government."_

_"I guess you're right," Hermione said. Ron's hands had begun massaging her calves, she smiled at him._

_"Was he still a prat?" he asked._

_"I don't know, it was weird. He wasn't really what I expected."_

_"What do you mean?" Ginny asked._

_"Well- he apologized to me."_

_Harry raised his eyebrows._

_"He said he was sorry for how he treated me in school and how thankful he was that I spoke up for him."_

_"Wow," Harry nodded his approval, "I'm actually a little impressed with the ferret."_

_"He even told me to extend his apologizes to you all as well."_

_They were all silent for a couple of seconds._

_Ginny was the first to speak, "Well, I'm glad he's not as much of a dick as he used to be. Was he still hot?"_

_Harry rolled his eyes._

_"Ginny!" Hermione blushed. "He is a coworker. It would be totally inappropriate for me to look at him in a sexual way."_

_"Yeah," Ron said sarcastically, "that's the only reason why that would be inappropriate."_

_"Well, there's also the fact that I'm gloriously happy with my wonderful boyfriend." She leaned forward so she could give him a chaste kiss on the lips._

_"I'm going to take your lack of an answer as you saying he looked fit. Good to know." Ginny grinned._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos make my day :)  
> [Follow me on Tumblr!](https://forgotten-traveler.tumblr.com/)


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